Flaws
by SeverEstHolmes
Summary: Mistakes, deficiencies, issues, flaws - they're inside everybody; they can prove irreparable, insurmountable and imperative to an individual. Hermione has always worn her flaws on her sleeve; but Draco has always buried them deep inside him. With the views within Hogwarts being reformulated after the war, could those flaws be the foundations of something beautiful?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a Dramione fic, and I've really enjoyed doing it - so I hope you'll enjoy reading it!  
This fic is dedicated to remusblakk on tumblr :)  
****There will be more sensitive issues later on in the fic which is why it's rated M, but I will post warnings for any triggering issues at the head of the chapter they are involved in!  
(Also disclaimer, this chapter is really the background for the rest of the fic to be based upon, I'm sorting out loose ends before I plunge into the really meaty stuff, so please bear with me - I promise it will be worth it, I hope! ;) **

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"I can't believe you're actually going to do this!" This was the fifth time this conversation had begun in this manner over the past week; Ron Weasley ran his hand over his unshaven face as he stood motionless in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen.

"I don't understand how many times I'm going to have to go over this with you." Hermione replied rather resigned to the start of this argument again. "I don't want to sit around for a year while I figure out what I'm going to do! I need to be doing _something _– and well, school's there… and it needs people to help bring it back to normalcy."

"So you're going back to make things "normal"?" Ron questioned scathingly. "Nothing is ever going to be _normal _again – we've never known _normal!"_

"Exactly Ron! You've just highlighted my exact point!" She answered exasperated. "Nothing is normal – and we have to adjust to that! We're not living in the threat of imminent danger anymore… None of us have really been in that situation before, not for a good few years anyway… and I want to find what is going to be normal now, for myself at least." Harry was sat across from Hermione at the Burrow table; and, although he didn't want to admit it, he could understand where Hermione was coming from… The past few years had been intense; it took a lot to alter the mind-set that they were in danger. Now that there was no Voldemort, no Death Eaters; the world seemed to have opened up unexpectedly, and there was an awful lot of it that needed to be explored and developed.

"And you're going to do that by going back to school?" Ron snorted.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed firmly. "What would I do otherwise Ron?"

"Come travelling with Harry and me! Take some time off!" He suggested, indicating to Harry, who really didn't want to be brought into this argument – probably because he wasn't sure who he would side with…

"Going back to school _is _time off for me! I did enough travelling last year to last me for a while… I just want to go back to school and have a normal life for a little while." Hermione reiterated. "Ron, I'm _not _going to change my mind now – I've already sent my owl. I'm going back to Hogwarts… I've made my decision; it's not going to change." Ron huffed and puffed momentarily, seemingly unable to comprehend Hermione's desire to go back to school.

"I don't understand…" Ron ran a hand through his ruffled hair and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. Harry felt like he should say something; Hermione was clearly upset by Ron's reaction, but words seemed to fail him.

"He'll come round." He told Hermione eventually, but she sighed.

"I don't know…" She looked despondent. "I thought he would understand that I just want a bit of _normalcy… _and, well, we did help to destroy pretty much everything in the Wizarding world," She smiled wryly at Harry. "So I thought it's only appropriate that I do a bit to help rebuild."

"I get what you mean…" Harry replied quietly. "I just… I can't imagine going back to Hogwarts just yet." The imagery of the battle, of bodies and rubble; Dumbledore's tomb – of destruction and the end of so many lives, still haunted Harry. Hogwarts had been a place of solace and comfort all through his teenage years; and being rather operative in its destruction, he couldn't face it.

"But I understand that!" Hermione squeaked shrilly, "It's not like I'm asking you and Ron to come back with me, I understand that you need time to do your own things – that you should have some time… but I thought Ron would accept my decision to go back to school…" She stared at the small staircase, which Ron had departed up a few minutes previously, and sighed again.

"We've always been together though…" Harry answered placidly. "It's always been the three of us; it'll be strange going off without you…"

"But you two will cope; you'll have a great time! I know that!" She fiddled with her interlocked fingers. "It's just not what I want right now."

"And that's fine Hermione…" Harry reassured her. "You do what you think is best for you. I understand that, and Ron will come round in time – you know what he's like."

"I do…" Hermione bit her lip, not seemingly incredibly reassured by Harry's words.

Harry cornered Ron in the room that they were sharing; Ron's mood had taken a decidedly bad turn, he was frowning and stomping about in annoyance.

"What's so bad about Hermione going back to school?" He asked, not wanting to instantly sound like he was bashing Ron, but also needing to put his question across concisely.

"Nothing." Ron snapped sharply, folding his arms across his chest. "I didn't expect her to want to go back."

"Well she does… so what's the problem?" Harry commented.

"I – well – we've – I…" Ron spluttered, his face growing red. "We've only been together for a couple of months – how is that supposed to last if she's away at Hogwarts?!"

"It might just take a bit more effort; I'm in the same position with Ginny." Harry replied, Ron was still frowning.

"It's different with me and Hermione though!" Ron protested.

"How is it any different?" Harry questioned, baffled by how Ron could perceive any major difference between their situations.

"It… it just is!" Ron stammered, turning his back on Harry. "It's really selfish of her, to just run off like this!" Ron exclaimed, Harry could see him tightening his arms across his chest as he looked out of the small window onto the orchard at the back of the Burrow. Ron's jaw set in the silence that lingered between them, there was a long stretch in which neither of them spoke; but Harry watched Ron, almost as though he could see the thought process going on through the back of his head. "I think she thinks we've rushed into things…" Ron said lowly.

"Rushed into things?" Harry repeated in bemusement. "Ron, you've known each other for eight years! That's hardly rushing into things!"

"But for seven years we were best mates, and right at the moment we both thought we were going to die, we jumped on each other…"Ron expanded. "And since… Since we won, it's gotten more and more awkward… Now it feels like she's running back to school to get out of the situation between us." That made much more sense to Harry, it made sense that Ron was confused, that Hermione seemed to be giving him mixed signals – and Ron had never been the best at interpreting signals…

"Have you spoken to her about this?" Harry asked, Ron shook his head. "How is she supposed to know what you're thinking if you don't talk to her? She thinks you're really angry with her, not that you care about your relationship!"

"How do I speak to her about that? I _don't _want her to go back to Hogwarts! I want her to come with us, and maybe if that happened we'd be able to figure out our relationship…" Ron disagreed.

"This is Hermione we're talking about," Harry tried to remind him. "She isn't going to change her mind just cause you're in the huff with her, in fact she's not likely to change her mind at all! But if you _talk _to her then she might understand _what _is making you feel uneasy about her going back." Ron grunted, and Harry gave up – he wasn't going to make Ron do anything he didn't want to; Ron was old enough to do his own thing, and it was his relationship with Hermione – Harry shouldn't intervene with that.

"I don't know why he's talking everything so… I don't even know – I thought he wouldn't mind." Hermione told Ginny; Harry was lingering far enough back in the kitchen for them both to know that he was there, but not involved in this conversation. "No offence, he is your brother, but most of the time, it's like he just doesn't care…"

"That's not offensive, that's just my brother! He can be the most insensitive prat in the world… but he does care about you Hermione." Ginny replied comfortingly.

"He's got a really funny way of showing it if he does." Harry had to bite his lip to prevent himself from snorting aloud; Hermione should know that neither he or Ron were particularly skilled when it came to understanding emotions, especially those in relation to girls. In fact the perception and interpretation of emotions had gotten worse since the end of the War…

"He's not too emotionally bright, I know that…" Ginny commented.

"But, I mean – Harry didn't make a fuss when you decided to go back to Hogwarts!" Harry could feel himself going red at being brought into this conversation.

"Harry and I are different." Ginny said stoically. "I don't mean… well, Harry and I were together before, and it was the War and you going into hiding that split us up… I don't think anything could ever be as huge a challenge as that again – so me being at Hogwarts isn't that big a deal." Ginny justified her statement, and Harry was glad that he didn't have to chip in.

"I wish Ron thought like that…" Hermione mumbled, "I can't cope with him if he's going to be all huffy all the time."

"He'll get used to it Hermione…" Ginny patted her hand, "And if he doesn't… well, you'll figure something out."

"I hope so…"

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**A/N: I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter (and those to follow!) Any comments will be greatly appreciated! :) Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to all those who left me a wee comment about chapter one, it's always great to hear anything from people who are reading! **

**This chapter is a bit more of the build up again, but I hope it becomes clear why this is necessary for the rest of the story!**

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It was a crisp, clear August day – the sun was sharp as it rose in the sky and doused the countryside with its light; and in the azure blue sky, two owls were nearing the end of their journey. Their destination, the Burrow, was still quiet – with only a few individuals awake. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, doing what she enjoyed most – preparing food for her family and friends. Ever since the end of the War, the Weasley's had been living close together again – the loss of Fred had been devastating, but it had brought the family close together. Bill and Fleur visited every weekend; Charlie, although still in Romania for work, had made extra effort to make trips home; Percy had moved back home after his return during the fighting, he was still under ministry employ, but his attitude could not have altered more drastically; George – on whom the loss had been worst – spent a lot of time at home, his assistant running the shop in London while he was away. Ron and Ginny were still at home, and Hermione and Harry had been staying with them for the past few months, while the rest of the world began to rebuild itself. Mrs. Weasley knew, however, that the family wouldn't stay this closely knit forever – Ginny and Hermione intended on going back to school for their final year, which she approved of; she knew the school would need the help of old students if it was going to recuperate from its losses. Ron and Harry, too, were going travelling around the world, an old rite of passage for newly qualified wizards – if it had been before everything that had happened last year she would have worried; but they had faced worse than anything that could ever happen now… Mrs. Weasley was interrupted from her task by the arrival of the owls, that perched upon the kitchen window sill, waiting for her to relieve them of their burdens. She pulled off the letters, allowing them to fly off once more, and placed the items – which were addressed to Hermione and Ginny – upon the table. No doubt it would be Hogwarts letters.

"Breakfast!" She shouted, banging on one of her saucepans to rouse the residents of the house from their rooms. She could hear the instant movement coming from the floors above the kitchen; in a very short space of time, the kitchen was full – Ron, Harry, George and Percy were already seated at the table when Ginny and Hermione appeared. "Oh girls, you've got mail – I think its Hogwarts letters." She picked up the two envelopes and handed them across to Ginny and Hermione in turn.

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley." Hermione said, accepting her letter.

"Thanks mum." Ginny muttered, flipping her envelope over and ripping it open. Harry noticed that Ron, in the seat beside him, had stiffened as his mother had handed the letter across to Hermione; but Harry ignored this right now, as he looked over Ginny's shoulder to read her letter. He had received a pang of longing as he watched her opening her letter, but it was nowhere near strong enough for him to wish he was going back to school himself.

"Will we need to make a trip to Diagon Alley?" Mrs. Weasley asked, while simultaneously loading food onto everyone's plates.

"I think we'll need to go and get new robes and stuff." Ginny nodded. "There's only one new book on the book list, but we'll need to get restocks of potion ingredients, eh Hermione?" Ginny looked up at Hermione; Hermione didn't respond, she was just staring down at the parchment in her hand. "Hermione?" Ginny repeated, Hermione raised her eyes, as though coming out of a deep preoccupation, her mouth slightly open.

"I'm head girl…" She said, sounding disbelieving and bemused.

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed excitedly, leaning across the table and almost grabbing the parchment out of Hermione's loose grip. "Oh Hermione! This is fantastic!" Hermione stared at her, almost as though this wasn't actually happening. She turned the envelope upside down, and a metal badge clattered out onto the table top.

"Congratulations Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, clapping a hand onto Hermione's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Hermione was staring at the badge glittering on the table top; she reached out her hand and picked up the gold badge which had 'HG' superimposed on top of the Gryffindor lion.

"I - I don't know what to say…" She was staring down at the badge. "I hadn't even thought about Head Boy and Girl, or even the Prefects…"

"Well done Hermione, you deserve it!" Harry nodded, grinning at her – if they hadn't left Hogwarts last year, Harry was sure that Hermione would have been Head Girl – so at least she was getting that chance now. "Doesn't she, Ron?" Harry prompted Ron, who was staring glumly at the badge. Ron gave a rather non-committal grunt, and Harry could see the hurt on Hermione's face; this was something that meant a lot to her, and Ron was acting as though he didn't care at all.

"It really is an honour, Hermione." Percy chipped in from the other end of the table. "It was really good fun when I was Head Boy, so no doubt you'll enjoy it – especially if you get on well with whoever is Head Boy."

"Does it say who Head Boy is?" Ron questioned gruffly, not looking up from his plate.

"No, why does that matter Ron?" Ginny shot across at her brother fiercely.

"Just thought it would be good to know who you're going to be spending your year with." He said, folding his arms across his chest and looking decidedly stubborn.

"It's none of your business who is Head Boy!" Ginny snapped.

"I think you'll find it is!" Ron slammed his hand down on the table, "She's _my _girlfriend!"

"And you should be happy for her!" Ginny was frowning, and Harry placed his hand on top of Ginny's, as though in warning.

"I am!" I was just asking a question!" Ron stated harshly; Hermione was no longer smiling – in fact she looked rather upset.

"And asking who Head Boy is is more important than congratulations?" Hermione asked quietly.

Don't make such a big deal of it! I was only wondering!" Ron responded, but Harry could see tears forming in the corners of Hermione's eyes.

"Excuse me." She muttered, pushing the chair back from the table and almost running out of the table. Ginny was glaring at her brother with her eyes narrowed.

"You really are an insensitive pray sometimes Ron!" She exclaimed.

"What?!" Ron shouted.

"Ginny, don't…" Harry warned quietly, but she stood up from the table and followed Hermione out of the room.

Hermione was perched upon the edge of her bed, her hands covering her face.

"Hermione?" Ginny whispered, sitting down on the bed next to her. "Don't let Ron get to you, he's just being an idiot." Ginny couldn't see Hermione's face, but she heard her sniff quietly.

"I don't know if I can keep on doing this…" Hermione wiped her eyes with her hand, not necessarily trying to hide her tears from Ginny. "He's just been so… uncaring lately…" She sighed. "It's like everything that I do, or want to do, doesn't matter…"

"He does care, I promise you he does…" Ginny assured, putting her arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"He's not showing it though…" She said exasperatedly. "I… I don't think I can be with someone who doesn't act like my life and my choices are important to them…" Tears were leaking down Hermione's cheeks and falling into her lap; Ginny bit her lip.

"I can't advise you on anything…" Ginny said eventually. "Just, think about whatever you're going to do."

"I am… I have been…" Hermione sniffed again. "But I can't see this working when both of us want completely different things…"

Ron was acting very coldly and distantly, not just to Hermione, but to Ginny and Harry as well. Harry had tried to distract him by offering to play quidditch out in the Weasley's orchard with him, but Ron didn't appear in the mood for this – especially not after Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione had departed to Diagon Alley to do their shopping for school. Harry almost wished he had gone with them with the mood that Ron was in, but he busied himself –preparing for the trip that he and Ron would be embarking upon.

After dinner, in which Ginny had recounted their trip to Diagon Alley, commenting that they had met several old students who were also returning to Hogwarts; Hermione approached Ron, asking him to go outside with her on his own.

Ron leant against the fence which ran around the proximity of the Burrow, not looking at Hermione.

"Ron… I've been thinking," She started, quietly and tentatively. "We've been friends for years and we've had some really good times together…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "I just don't think that the two of us being a couple is the best thing in the long run…" There was a short silence while Ron stared at his feet.

"Yeah." He grunted eventually. "You're right."

"I… I really hope that it won't her friendship…" She said quickly. "Because you are my best friend – I just don't think the two of us want the same things."

"Yeah…" He repeated, "It's probably best we do this now… especially with both of us going off to do our own things."

"Yeah, I'm – I'm glad you understand…" She murmured, rather deflatedly.

"I do… and you're right, we just wouldn't work."

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**A/N: Thank you for reading, I'd love to hear what you think about it so far! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for reading this much (if you already have!) This chapter is when the other main character of this story is introduced, I hope you enjoy! :)**

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"Girls… girls!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called sharply up the staircase of the Burrow; it was 8 am on the morning of the first of September, and they would very shortly have to leave to make it to King's Cross in time to make the train.

"Hermione?" Ginny whispered, she was perched upon the edge of her bed, combing her hair before beginning to get dressed. "Hermione? Are you awake?" Hermione had been lying with her back to Ginny's bed, awake but not quite wanting to move just yet. The past week had been so difficult… the ending of her relationship with Ron had clearly been more difficult for herself than him, or maybe he was just acting that way while she was still around – but in only a short space of time, she had begun to feel incredibly uncomfortable being constantly in Ron's company. In a slightly selfish way, she was pleased to be going back to Hogwarts purely so she could get away from Ron.

"Yeah, I'm awake…" She replied to Ginny.

"We better get ready before mum comes up here." Ginny said, shoving a few last bits and pieces into her trunk and securing it shut.

The journey to Platform 9 and ¾ was a quiet one; Ron, Harry and George had come along to see Hermione and Ginny onto the train. Hermione was thankful that George had come along, as Ginny and Harry were closely locked together, with it being the last time they would see each other until a holiday. George, who had become more reserved of late, chatted to Hermione about Hogwarts, which meant there were no uncomfortable silences between her and Ron. The platform was busy and bustling; the new students looking very small and lost accompanied by their parents, and most other students hailing and greeting friends whom they had not seen in several months. Hermione loaded her trunk into a compartment while Harry and Ginny said a thoroughly non-verbal goodbye, and she waited, slightly awkwardly, for the whistle to blow and them all to get on the train. Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione tightly;

"I'm sure we'll see you at some point soon, have a good term Hermione." Hermione was thankful for Mrs. Weasley, and waited as she hugged Ginny (after she had detached from Harry). Harry gave Hermione a brief hug also, whispering to her:

"You take care, and let us know all about what's going on, I want to hear all about Hogwarts while you're there."

"I will, and I want to hear about your trip." She replied; the whistle blew and Ginny and Hermione both rushed to get on the train before all the compartment doors were slammed shut by the guards.

"Goodbye – have a good term!" Came floating from the four still left on the platform as Ginny and Hermione waited at the door, as the train began to move, slowly gathering speed.

Once the train had rounded the corner out of King's Cross, Ginny turned to Hermione:

"I'll get a compartment for us – do you have to go up to the prefect's compartment for a bit?"

"Yeah, I shouldn't be too long though." She nodded.

"I'll keep a space for you; I'll see you in a little while." Ginny told her. Hermione began to make her way up the busy corridors of the train, towards the front compartment.

Usually confident, Hermione felt uneasy as she manoeuvred her way up the corridors, very aware that she was receiving stares akin to the ones Harry usually got. This was not altogether unsurprising, she had spent a year in hiding with Harry in their attempt to track down horcruxes and defeat Voldemort; the inquisitiveness of the other students was practically par for the course… but without Harry and Ron with her, she felt very alone in this.

The prefect compartment seemed very crowded upon approach, there seemed to be even more bodies moving about in the small space in between the seats. Hermione recalled that this year the prefect team would be bigger than usual because of the re-invitation to those students whose education had been marred last year by the conflict. She quietly slid open the compartment door and was almost instantly hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a hufflepuff and member of Dumbledore's Army.

"Hermione!" He called, sticking out his hand cordially to shake Hermione's. "Come and sit with us." He offered, shuffling upon his seat to allow her to sit with him. At the small table with him was Padma Patil, the Ravenclaw prefect from Hermione's year and a girl whom Hermione didn't really know, apart from by sight, who must be a prefect from a younger year. "Congratulations!" He said, gesturing towards Hermione's Head Girl badge, she smiled rather sheepishly. "McGonagall couldn't have picked a better person." Hermione felt rather touched by this statement, it was pleasant that Ernie held her in such an esteem that he felt her deserving of Head Girl-ship.

"Thanks Ernie," She replied quietly. "It was a bit of a surprise. I'm just looking forwards to being back at Hogwarts…"

"Us too…" Padma said. "The thought of not coming back was really strange, especially after last year…"

"But it's all good now." Ernie nodded assuredly. "Are Harry and Ron back too?" He asked, Hermione shook her head slightly, internally dealing with the slight pang that she felt at the mention of Ron's name.

"No… they're going travelling for a year." She explained, "I did think about going with them, but I wanted to come back to school."

"It's deserved of course." Ernie acknowledged, "Having a bit of a rest, but you can always do that after this year…"

"Yeah, I just wanted to come back to Hogwarts." Hermione muttered, not bringing up the current situation that was between her and Ron. "I missed it last year."

"Yes, yes, of course." Ernie was nodding. "And I'm sure the prefect team will be working hard this year to bring the school back to normal."

"Yeah…" Hermione agreed, "Hey – do you know who Head Boy is? I haven't found out yet…" The expression on Ernie's face had stiffened slightly.

"He's at the back of the compartment," Ernie said in a low voice, jerking his head backwards. "He hasn't spoken to anyone as far as we know…" Hermione raised herself slightly in her chair to crane over the heads of the others in the compartment. Right at the back, sitting at a table of his own, and looking quite sullen; Hermione recognised the white blond hair and pale, pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

It took a few moments for Hermione to consciously register and accept what she had just been told; lowering herself back down into the seat she glanced between Ernie and Padma – both of whom had incredibly solemn looks on their faces.

"Malfoy?" She exclaimed in some disbelief. "He's Head Boy?"

"He's the one with the badge." Padma said slowly. "I'm not exactly sure why…"

"I guess things will be changing in Hogwarts now… maybe McGonagall made him Head Boy to try and integrate the slytherins with the rest of the houses." Hermione suggested, but she was aware of a dull, sinking sensation inside her. Being Head Girl was an honour, but working with Malfoy would no doubt be a challenge…

Hermione left the prefect's compartment with Ernie and Padma, having acquainted herself with (at least) the names of all the prefects who would be on the prefect team. They made their way down the corridor until she found the compartment with Ginny in it; wishing farewell to Padma and Ernie, she slid open the door and went inside, in the compartment with Ginny was Neville and Luna.

"Hi Hermione," Neville greeted her with a broad smile.

"Hi Neville, hey Luna." Hermione responded. Despite having not spent a lot of time with the three of them during her previous school time, she felt a rush of affection towards them all. They were the three who had stood behind Harry, Ron and herself the whole time they were fighting the Death Eaters and all three of them had suffered. Ginny had lost her brother in the fight; Neville had been repeatedly beaten black and blue by the Carrows; and Luna had been kidnapped, held as ransom, but none of them had given up – none of them had lost faith… In many ways, although they were still school kids, they had proven that age means nothing in the battle against injustice and ignorance; their actions had been more courageous and more loyal than many adults.

"Hello Hermione." Luna said in her usually serene manner; both Neville and Luna were looking well – all the injuries Neville had sustained last year had healed, and the dark circles under Luna's eyes had disappeared since the end of her ordeal.

"Did you have good summers?" Hermione asked, both of them nodded.

"Daddy and I went on a trip to Iceland." Luna answered, "It was nice to have some time with him after last year."

"I went on holiday with Gran too." Neville said; Neville _looked _different… Gone were the days where Neville looked weedy; his frame had filled out, noticeable nowhere more than in his face. He looked like an adult now rather than a little boy.

"Your Gran must be proud of you after last year." Hermione proffered, a grin spread across Neville's face.

"Oh yeah, she is." He sheepishly looked down at his lap, despite being well deserving of his Grandmother's pride. "She keeps telling people I'm truly my father's son, and that I've clearly got my determination and talent from him." Only in the past few years had Neville began to live up to his Gran's incredibly high expectations, and now there was no way she could deny that he was anything less than wonderfully talented.

"How was the prefect's compartment?" Ginny asked interestedly; Hermione's mind was drawn back to her counterpart.

"Alright, there's a bigger team this year – I was chatting to Ernie and Padma." Hermione answered, paused for a second and then continued: "I found out who Head Boy is too…"

"Oh! Who is it?" Ginny questioned cautiously, this was the subject that had caused the beginning of the end for her and Ron.

"Well… it's Draco Malfoy…" She said slowly; there was a very pregnant pause.

"Dr- Draco Malfoy?!" Ginny exclaimed in disbelief. "How is _he _Head Boy?!" Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know… I guess Professor McGonagall has her reasons for making him Head Boy…" Hermione murmured, hoping deeply that this was the case. If Professor McGonagall didn't have good reasons, then Hermione wasn't sure what she would do. A year spent working with Draco Malfoy wasn't exactly the ideal year that Hermione had been envisioning for her return to school… Whatever the case, Hermione was convinced now that this year would at least be interesting…

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'd really love to know what you think/feel about it so far! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for reading so far! I really hope you've been enjoying the story as I've been loving writing it! :) **

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"Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!" Instantly recognisable, the voice of Rubeus Hagrid boomed over the chatter of the crowd as they departed in groups from the train. "Firs' years!"

"Hi Hagrid!" Hermione called across the small gaggle of timid first years who were gathering around him, most of them barely coming up to his waist. Hagrid looked over the group and spotted Hermione, he beamed at her and Hermione suddenly felt much more at home; ready to be back at Hogwarts.

"'Ello there Hermione!" He called, "See you at the feast!" Buffeted by the crowd of students, Hermione followed along behind Ginny, Neville and Luna towards the coaches; on approach to the queue waiting for carriages, Hermione gasped. Black-skinned, horse-like creatures with leathery wings were fastened into the shafts of the coaches: thestrals… Hermione had never seen them before, and despite having read all about them, there was something intensely eerie about their luminescent white eyes shining in the dark. Ginny, too, had made a convulsive twitch as they were approached by one of the carriages.

"Can you see them now?" Luna asked quietly, both Hermione and Ginny nodded, although Hermione didn't take her eyes off them. "They're quite gentle really…" Luna explained, stretching out her hand and patting the nose of the thestral, which closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying the sensation. "See?"

"I had forgotten about the thestrals…" Hermione muttered, once they had climbed into one of the coaches and it had started its way up towards Hogwarts castle. "That more of us would be able to see them now…" Ginny had gone very quiet and was staring at her lap – Hermione wondered whether she was thinking about Fred. ..

Look at the castle!" Neville distracted them from thought about the thestrals; he had been leaning out the small window and staring up at Hogwarts." Look at all the repairs!"

It was the case that Hogwarts had been damaged seriously during the battle of Hogwarts, but Hermione had expected that they would just repair it back to what it had looked like. However, the closer they got to the castle, the more obvious were the repairs that had been done. Where huge chunks of stone wall had been blasted away, what looked like transparent glass material had been used in the repairs…

"Wow…" Ginny breathed, she too was hanging out of the carriage window to look at Hogwarts; the moon and sky behind the castle were shining through the glass sections of the buildings. "It looks amazing!"

Getting out of the carriages at the front of the castle, all four of them stared up at Hogwarts castle, the illuminated windows shone yellow and echoed the stars overhead. Hermione spotted Draco Malfoy climbing out of a carriage which had just pulled up behind them; he was on his own and barely glanced up at the castle before rushing inside.

The Great Hall was very different from the last time Hermione had been in it; the four house tables were laid out as they usually were, and long banners displaying all of the houses' emblems were hanging above the tables. There was an uncoiling sensation inside of Hermione, all of her fears and preoccupations that she had been aware of with coming back to school were melting away now she was here.

"I'll see you guys later," Luna bid farewell at the entrance of the Great Hall and drifted off towards the Ravenclaw table.

"Shall we get seats quite near the front?" Ginny suggested, "I want to see the sorting."

Sitting as far down the table, while still leaving space for the new first years, the three of them were able to get a good view of the other three house tables, and the staff table. Professor Minerva McGonagall was positioned in the centre of the staff table, in the seat that had been, for years previously, Albus Dumbledore's. Headstrong and intelligent, Minerva McGonagall seemed to be the perfect choice to lead Hogwarts back to what it had once been, and what it would be again. No one could claim that she was under qualified, she had been teaching at Hogwarts for over thirty years, stepped in for Dumbledore in times when he was away from the castle, dealt with individuals like Dolores Umbridge, and fought in the war against Voldemort. Hermione had no doubt that she would be a wonderful headmistress, The chatter in the hall was loud as all the returning students caught up with their friends, waiting for the sorting to begin; Hermione knew that it would be soon when she spotted Hagrid sidling into the hall and taking his seat at the staff table. The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and the chatter from the existing students dropped almost instantly as Professor Flitwick led the long line of scared looking first years up to the front. The line appeared to be particularly long, and there were several individuals throughout the line who looked like they were older than eleven.

"That's a huge year…" Ginny whispered to Neville and Hermione, her eyes following the progression of the line filtering down to the front.

"Perhaps McGonagall has invited the muggle borns who were meant to start last year…" Hermione suggested lowly, as the last of the new students lined up at the front.

"Oh…" Ginny breathed softly, her eyes widening as though recognition had just shot through her.

Professor Flitwick had just placed the small, three legged stool on the raised platform where the staff table was situated, and rested the sorting hat on top of it:

_ 'From ages past the sorting hat has been._

_ And far too many fights and trials has it then seen;_

_ Through all those years it's been my job to divide you house by house,_

_ But recent times have brought more chance and division is now false._

_ For Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are to be united again as one,_

_ Here a new era of friendship and companionship has begun._

_ So no longer will each house be singe,_

_ For together we are strong;_

_ I leave you now with a new vision for the future,_

_ Of hope, and caring nurture.'_

The hat fell silent, and after a few infinitesimal moments in which everyone realised it was done, the hall broke out in applause.

"That was shorter than usual…" Ginny said, through the applause from the surrounding students.

"I guess it doesn't have much to warn us about now that Voldemort has gone…." Neville commented, shrugging his shoulders as the clapping faded to a stop. "Now that the houses aren't being divided by anything…"

"I wonder if the Slytherins will get that message…" Ginny wondered aloud to the two of them; Hermione cast a glance across to the Slytherin table which was furthest away from the Gryffindor one. Once again, her eyes fixed on Malfoy, who was sitting pretty far up the table, and wasn't interacting with anyone around him.

The sorting had already begun, and Hermione, Neville and Ginny watched intently as Professor Flitwick called out names. 'Barr, Violet' became the first of the year to be sorted into Gryffindor and the three of them clapped along with the rest of the table as the tall, black haired girl stumbled towards the table and sat at the empty seat across from them. The sorting took longer with the increased numbers, but finally, when it was finished, Professor McGonagall got to her feet to address the students:

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" Her voice rang out, crisp and sharp throughout the hall. "I bid that you have all travelled far, and are now in need of some sustenance – so enjoy!" She sat down, and very suddenly there was food on the platters which had been laid out on all of the tables. It was thrilling to see the startled expressions on the faces of the first years, who had never witnessed such an event as this before.

Once the feast was finished, and everyone had had their gill of food, the remaining extras vanished from their plates and left them gleaming. Professor McGonagall again stood before the students once more:

"I presume that you have had a pleasant meal; now before you head to bed, I have a few announcements to make. As many of you know our world is no longer under threat from Lord Voldemort…" She was interrupted at this point by a spontaneous round of applause which broke out among the students, a few people even cheered; Hermione could see baffled expressions on several of the first year's faces, which she took to mean that they were muggle borns. Professor McGonagall smiled briefly and continued: "Our world has changed more than ever before, and I want that change to begin from inside Hogwarts. From now on, except at feast meals, students are encouraged to sit at different tables for breakfast, lunch and dinner – intermingle within the houses, sit within friends and make new friends. The houses in Hogwarts shouldn't remain divided; we are _all _on the same side…" Her words appeared to be particularly emphasized towards the Slytherin students. "First years this year are a combination of the intake of this year, and those students who should have started last year, and I hope you will all feel welcome in the school and its community." Her eyes were sweeping around the great hall at the students. "And lastly a few housekeeping rules: no one besides the prefect team should be out of their house common room after 9:30 in the evening; the forbidden forest is out of bounds unless you are unaccompanied by a teacher; and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask your heads of house or a teacher. Now that that is cleared up: goodnight, sleep well and be rested before classes tomorrow."

A great scraping noise was omitted from the benches as they were pushed back from the tables and the hundreds of Hogwarts students poured out of the Great Hall towards their respective dormitories. Hermione walked along with Neville and Ginny, chatting about McGonagall's speech at the end of the feast.

"I thought the first year looked bigger than usual." Ginny was saying. "So McGonagall's invited all the muggle borns who didn't get to come last year."

"It's really good of her." Neville was nodding. "I can't imagine how sad I would have been to receive a letter from Hogwarts and then not be able to come…"

"They're probably entering the Wizarding World at the best time…" Hermione agreed, "No Voldemort, people pushing for equal rights for muggle borns."

"It's going to be interesting now that we don't have to stick to our own house tables during the week, won't it?" Ginny said. "It means we'll be able to sit with Luna!"

"I think it's a really nice idea, to get all the houses cooperating together." Hermione replied, for some reason her mind flicked back to Malfoy – who had been sitting alone, quite clearly being shunned by other students. Hermione wondered whether his parent's involvement in the War had tarnished people's feelings towards him…

As Hermione climbed into her four poster bed, she felt very comforted; her first evening back at Hogwarts had confirmed to her that she had made the correct choice in coming back to school… The school year ahead would be one of change that she would be able to help with… and not once during the course of the evening, had she missed Ron, or regretted her decision… she knew it was right!

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**A/N: Thanks for reading, I'd really love to know what you think/feel about this story so far! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"Miss Granger, Miss Granger!" A voice called after Hermione as she got up from the breakfast table, she turned round to see Professor McGonagall making her way towards her; several of the first years sat at the table were gawping at them, this was the first time they had seen the Headmistress up close. "I need a meeting with you and Mr. Malfoy. As our new Head Girl and Boy, I think it's a good idea that we discuss the roles that both of you are undertaking."

"Yes, of course!" Hermione agreed, slightly flustered.

"I believe you have a free period first thing today?" Professor McGonagall asked, Hermione nodded. "That will be fine, I'll see you in my office, I just need to find Mr. Malfoy now to inform him of the meeting." Hermione was left standing as Professor McGonagall departed abruptly.

Feeling slightly apprehensive, Hermione made her way towards Professor McGonagall's old office, before realising that she would now be in the office that had belonged to Dumbledore. Almost running along the corridors, she quickly climbed up to the seventh floor, where the spiral staircase up to the headmistress' office was no longer guarded by gargoyles. She bounded up the moving staircase and knocked on the door, entering the office after summoning she uttered a swift apology.

"Sorry Professor McGonagall, I went to the wrong office…" McGonagall smiled briefly and indicated for Hermione to sit down in the free chair in front of her desk. Draco Malfoy was already seated, his head bowed slightly as though he was gazing intently into his lap.

"Right," She began as Hermione placed her bag at her feet and looking up at McGonagall. "I wanted a meeting with the two of you, as you are now Head Boy and Girl and in charge of the Prefect team. I need both of you to understand what we're trying to achieve at Hogwarts as you will be prime models for it to become common for the rest of the students." Hermione nodded briefly, feeling a very solid weight of responsibility resting upon her shoulders. "Both of you are intelligent and informed enough to understand how segregated the wizarding world has been for decades…" Hermione glanced across at Draco, who was still staring down at his lap. "That segregation is beginning to break down since the fall of Voldemort, I really want the prefects and the both of you to be actively involved in the intermingling of the houses… does that sound alright to you?" She paused at this moment and looked between Hermione and Draco, clearly waiting for a response of some kind. Hermione nodded instantly and enthusiastically, but Draco seemed not to have realised the need for reciprocation in terms of this conversation, and it was only when Professor McGonagall said: "Draco, do you understand that?"

"Yes." He murmured very quickly, but his voice retained a level of subdued quiet to it; he had not raised his eyes from his lap during the whole meeting.

"What I would like to happen throughout the year, I want some events, or activities, that will bring the houses together, and I thought that would be something that you and the prefect team can be in charge of organising." She continued. "Would you agree that is something you could do?"

Yes, of course!" Hermione answered, again glancing at Draco waiting for his reply; he nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful! Well, I think that's all we need to discuss, unless there is anything you want to ask?" She concluded, Hermione shook her head. "That's all then." Draco moved quicker than Hermione, getting to his feet and racing to the door. "Miss. Granger, can I speak to you for a moment?" Hermione decreased in loading her bag onto her shoulder and waited until the door to the office swung shut as Draco left; Professor McGonagall was watching the door, as though making sure that Draco had gone. When the door had been closed long enough to ensure that Draco was no longer outside the door, Professor McGonagall let out an audible sigh which had an element of concern. "Hermione, I'll speak frankly with you because I know you have a level of empathy beyond many of the students in the school." She said, she was standing behind her desk. "Draco has returned to Hogwarts while his parents are being detained and tried for being Death Eaters." Hermione nodded, sure that there was more information about to be imparted. "While he has returned, I and the rest of the staff were happy at his appointment as Head Boy, I understand that some of the prefects, and students, will question why we have done so… I want you to understand that my hope is the two of you will be able to unite the school." She expanded, "But I am aware that Draco is in a rather difficult place, after all of the events last year – I was hoping that you would keep an eye on him… I don't mean in terms of school work or anything, just in his personal life… if you can maybe make an attempt to check that he's not entirely isolating himself…" She requested, "I know you aren't friends, but as Head Girl, with him being Head Boy, do you think you could do that?"

"Uh, of course…" Hermione replied, she wasn't sure of how she would do what McGonagall was asking her to, but she would give it a try. "Yeah… I'll try…"

"Thank you." Professor McGonagall nodded. "I knew I could count on you, Hermione." She gave Hermione a quick smile, before Hermione loaded her bag over her shoulder and left the office.

"What did McGonagall say to you?" Ginny asked Hermione, as she joined her at the queue waiting outside Professor Slughorn's classroom to go into their first class, potions.

"She wants the prefects to organise events that will bring the school together." Hermione said quietly, as the door to the class swung open and all the students began to filter inside. This class was a mixture of 7th year students, some who had been in Hermione's year and some who had been in the year below, and all the students filed in and took places at the tables. Hermione and Ginny sat at the table at the back of the room, closest to the door, and were joined by Ernie MacMillan first, then Draco joined the table with a measure of reluctance, but there didn't appear to be any free places at the other tables.

"Good morning and welcome to your N.E.W.T. potions class." Professor Slughorn started in his slow wheezy voice. Hermione didn't attempt to continue her conversation with Ginny during the potions class, not with Draco in earshot of everything that she said; instead she tried to focus her attention purely upon what Slughorn was telling them about the potion they were attempting to make. A couple of times throughout the class they exchanged brief words, with Ernie occasionally chipping in. Draco remained silent throughout the entirety of the class; every so often, while she was adding ingredients to her cauldron, she found herself watching Draco. She couldn't keep herself from wondering what he was thinking, and feeling, being back at Hogwarts after last year.

"Have you thought about what kind of events you could do through the year?" Ginny asked, as her and Hermione sat down at one of the tables in the Great Hall, across from Luna and Neville, who had already begun their lunch.

"Not yet…" Hermione replied, pulling a dish of pasta towards her and loading some onto her plate.

"What's this?" Neville asked, pausing with his fork halfway up to his mouth.

"The prefect team are going to be organising events to bring the school together throughout the year and Hermione is in charge of planning it." Ginny answered him promptly.

"And Draco." Hermione reminded.

"Yeah… but what's he going to do?" Ginny dismissed, swatting her hand through the air as though batting away an invisible fly.

"I don't know… but I think we should give him a chance at least." Hermione murmured quietly, remembering what Professor McGonagall had said to her about Draco. Neville and Ginny both froze mid-mouthful, staring at Hermione; Luna seemed completely oblivious to the implications of Hermione's last statement.

"Are you-" Ginny started, but she seemed so incredulous that she couldn't even finish her own sentence.

"I was just thinking…" She tried to justify herself without giving it away that McGonagall had asked her to. "If I'm going to be organising events to bring the school together and _I'm _not trying to be inclusive of the Slytherins then it's not going to be successful, is it?

"I'm not suggesting you don't be inclusive of the Slytherins – just not Draco!" Ginny answered sharply, she was glaring over towards what had been the Slytherin table – but Draco was nowhere to be seen. "I don't know why he even came back to school…"

"I think he was brave to come back after everything that he did last year…" Neville spoke after a pause between the four of them, then he closed his mouth quickly after a fierce glance was shot at him by Ginny. "Not that he should have…" Neville looked uncomfortable, but Hermione was smiling.

"I thought it was quite courageous for him to come back too Neville; but – I mean, if none of them who had been on Voldemort's side had come back then how would we be able to integrate everyone? If he had stayed away, he'd become an outcast, and that's what breed isolation and ignorance – and before we know it we'd have another uprising of some sort." Hermione said quickly, hoping that the quicker she got it out the less impolite it would sound.

"I feel sorry for him." Luna commented serenely, she must have been listening to the conversation despite the blank look on her face. "Like last year, when the Death Eaters took me, daddy was forced to print all that horrible stuff about Harry," She continued, "And he didn't want to, but he did it to try and get me back… Well, imagine how Draco must have felt with both of his parents as Death Eaters… he mustn't have had a lot of choice about what he did, family is important." She turned her attention back to her plate of shepherd's pie, not caring that Ginny, Neville and Hermione were all staring at her. Hermione felt a sudden rush of admiration for Luna; despite Luna's proclivity for believing some of the most absurd parts of the wizarding world, she displayed a remarkable empathy with everyone around her.

"I still think it is reckless for him to come back to school." Ginny murmured.

Hermione pondered upon this split between the four of them; she could understand why Ginny had such strong feelings about Draco, but Professor McGonagall's request for her to look out for Draco was prevalent in her mind… She would try her best to do what Professor McGonagall had asked her to, but she wasn't sure how she would manage it…

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**A/N: Thank you very much for reading! I hope you've been enjoying it so far, and I'd love to know what you think/feel about it! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione's first week back at Hogwarts seemed longer than usual… It was not because she wasn't enjoying her classes, or being back at the school, in fact, being back among the students and teachers made her more content than she had felt in a while. What made it feel longer was the differences to Hogwarts: the newly rebuilt parts of the castle sometimes made it feel like she was walking through a muggle shopping centre, with the high glass windows and wide open stairwells, it didn't always feel like Hogwarts; the abolishment of the house tables meant that most of the students were now spending time with friends from other houses during breakfast, lunch and dinner (which Hermione secretly hoped would improve the chances of interhouse co-operation); and the absence of Harry and Ron was also a prominent change, especially as many of the students had asked about them (particularly Harry) since she had gotten back… she had lost count of how many times she had been accosted by students, some of whom she had never seen before, who wanted to shake her hand or say thank you for being involved in the group that had brought down Voldemort, others who asked why Harry and Ron hadn't come back to school. She had a fleeting glimpse of what it must be like to be Harry, and she couldn't wait for these occurrences to die down. She wasn't lonely however, she had fallen in with Ginny, Neville and Luna, and they had made her feel instantly comfortable with them. She had noticed too that being back at school had removed the opportunity for her to dwell upon what had happened between Ron and her just before she came back to school. She had no time to go over the situation in her head, to re-think about it at all, and she was partly glad of this – but even when she did get a moment and the thought crept into her head, she didn't feel as aggrieved about it as she thought she would… For some reason, there was no regret or upset that accompanied the thought, which she took to mean that she had made the right decision…

When Sunday morning dawned, Hermione rose early and sat in the common room until Neville and Ginny joined her to go down for breakfast. The three of them sat at one of the tables in the great hall, they were some of the earliest to get to breakfast and it was relatively empty; they had chosen a section of the table with a space so that Luna could join them, but to Hermione's right there was a group of sixth and seventh year boys who she thought were from Slytherin. They seemed to be discussing something in great earnest, but Hermione paid no attention until a fleeting name drop caught her ear.

"You know, Draco Malfoy, the _Death Eater._" One of the boys was saying, with particular emphasis upon the last phrase. As inconspicuously as she could, Hermione turned her head and tried to listen into their conversation; the boys were leant in so they weren't overheard.

"What about him?" One of the boys with rather long curly hair asked, sounding disinterested, but leaning forwards all the same.

"He's in my dormitory, and every night this week he's either not been there at all or appeared at two or three in the morning stinking of booze." The boy who had attracted Hermione's attention continued; Hermione's heart sped up in her chest. "Gordon said he was going to lock the door so that he couldn't get in cause he always wakes everyone up… just shows you though, right?"

"Good choice for head boy!" The curly haired boy chipped in, snorting and filling up a cup of coffee.

"Hermione!" Hermione was recalled back to Ginny and Neville, who had been joined by Luna.

"What?" She asked quickly, trying to make it seem like she hadn't been listening into someone else's conversation. As she turned back she realised why Ginny had called her, a large brown owl was sitting on the table with its leg stuck out waiting for her to take the letter from it. She unwrapped the toggle which secured the sealed parchment onto the owl's leg, in doing so she recognized the non-joined up handwriting on the front.

"Who's it from?" Ginny asked, she was smiling and Hermione guessed that she, too, had recognized the handwriting.

"It's from Harry." She answered, as the delivery owl took off over her head, and she opened the letter.

_'Hermione,_

_ I hope your first week back at school has been a good one! Is it really weird being back? How is it being Head Girl? Have you got lots to do?_

_ I don't have very much to report on about us. Ron and I have set off on our trip, we're in Romania with Charlie at the moment, he's been showing us around the town and his work. You'll have to pass on a message to Hagrid that Norberta is doing well!_

_ It's been really strange without you with us; I want to hear everything that you're doing at Hogwarts!_

_ I hope to hear back from you soon, with all the details of what's going on!_

_ Harry.'_

Hermione read the note quickly, with Ginny peering over her shoulder to read it also.

"You'll have to tell him about who's Head Boy." Ginny said as she finished reading. "That's the main topic of gossip at the moment… and what you're planning for all the houses – maybe Harry and Ron will have some ideas for things you could do!" She suggested.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, laying the parchment down on the table top where it curled back into its position of delivery. As good as it was to hear from Harry about the beginning of her best friends' trip, her mind was still distracted by the conversation that she had overheard from the Slytherin boys, who had finished their breakfast and left during the time that she had been reading.

All throughout Sunday, Hermione found her mind wandering back to that conversation she had overheard at breakfast. Even when the four of them decided to sit outside in the sun, Hermione wondered about what Draco was doing… First of all, if what the boys had been saying was correct, where was he getting the alcohol? It wasn't like it was a readily available substance at Hogwarts, he must be getting it from outside the school… and if that was the case, why? She understood that it must be hard after last year, but surely his choice to come back to school was because he wanted to show some change in his outlook? But sulking, drinking, and withdrawing from the current student population wasn't exactly an indication of this.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice broke into her thoughts again. "Are you with us?"

"Yes?" Hermione answered, suddenly realising that she had completely blanked out from the conversation that was going on. "What? Sorry…"

"Are you trying to think of things to talk to the prefect team about?" Ginny asked, and Hermione nodded, seizing this excuse as a reason. "When do you have a meeting with them all?"

"Uuh… I'm not sure, we haven't arranged one yet…" Hermione replied, and that was a new thought now entering her mind… she would have to, in some way, contact Draco so the two of them could arrange a meeting with the whole prefect team. Maybe that would give her a chance to check up on him…

"Good luck with that," Ginny snorted, "I'd like to see what Draco comes up with." She flicked her long hair over her shoulder, looking disapproving.

"Yeah…" Hermione said absently.

By the end of Sunday, Hermione had mentally decided that she would try to corner Draco after Potions the next day to arrange a time for a prefect meeting so that they could inform everyone of what they were going to be doing that year. Lying in bed, trying to think about what Draco might be doing now, she considered going back to Professor McGonagall and telling her that she couldn't do what had been requested of her; but she was sure that, after only a week, it wouldn't be considered that she had done enough to try… and the last thing that she wanted to do was let down Professor McGonagall after she had been chosen to be Head Girl. She would try to check up on Draco for the next week or two, then she would try to figure out what she could do…

Her plan, however, did not go as she had thought it would – as when she filtered into Potions class with Ginny and Ernie, Draco was nowhere to be seen. He didn't appear all through the class, and the space next to Ernie remained empty. Hermione tried not to let it bother her as they made a blood replenishing potion, but she was conscious that she wasn't paying full attention to her work. Where was Draco? Why wasn't he in class? It wasn't like he could have forgotten about the lesson; perhaps he was ill or something… it was all that Hermione could do to convince herself that this must be the case. Draco didn't turn up for Defence Against the Dark Arts either, and despite having tried to convince herself during Potions that he must be ill, alarm bells were ringing inside her head. But, apart from somehow forcing her way into the Slytherin dormitories and finding Draco, there wasn't really anything she could do… Running with the suspicion that Draco must be ill, she tried to stop thinking about it; it wasn't really her place to be worrying… Draco wasn't a friend of hers, it wasn't like it was Ginny, or Neville, or Luna… Although that would be easier because she wouldn't feel guilty about letting Professor McGonagall down…

Tuesday came and went with no sign of Draco; Hermione had been consciously checking everywhere she went, in the corridors, in the Great Hall at meal times, for any sign of him but it was to no avail. On Wednesday morning, she intentionally took a detour around by the hospital wing to see if Draco was in there… But again, it was fruitless. Hermione was beginning to feel desperate, she wasn't sure how she would be able to check up on him without involving a teacher… As their fourth class, Potions, rolled around the situation was resolved. For as she entered the outer dungeons, she saw Draco at the back of the queue waiting to go into class. She could have sighed in relief at the sight of him, despite not really knowing Draco, and for the first time in her life, she was pleased to see him.

She could feel her heart beating somewhere in the region of her throat as the end of class drew near; as the bell rang she muttered to Ginny to go ahead without her, as she shoved her books and ingredients haphazardly into her bag to catch Draco. She was inexplicably nervous as she followed about a pace behind him out of the class.

"Um, Draco…" She started as she caught up with him in the passage out of the dungeons; she was startled by how much he jumped when she said his name.

"Oh, hi…" He muttered quietly, looking back down at the floor.

"I was thinking about what Professor McGonagall spoke to us about, I thought that maybe we should have a meeting with the whole prefect team to talk about any ideas that they have." She continued; walking alongside Draco she was able to get a closer look at him than when they were in class. His pale face was drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes – he gave off the appearance of someone who was ill.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea…" He replied rather unenthusiastically, not looking up as they climbed the stairs.

"Is there any day that would suit you better?" He shrugged his shoulders non-committantly. "How about Saturday evening, after dinner?"

"Yeah…" He agreed quietly.

"Alright, I'll let all the prefects know and arrange somewhere for us to meet." Hermione said, hoping for some kind of reaction, but all that Draco said was:

"Okay." By the time they had agreed this they had reached the entrance hall, and Draco was looking reluctant to continue walking.

"I'll see you on Saturday evening then…" She concluded, noticing his drawing back from the entrance hall where there was a large group of hovering students.

"Yeah…"

"Well bye…" Hermione suddenly felt awkward.

"Bye." Draco murmured, sidling off through one of the other doors, Hermione suspected that it must lead to the Slytherin dormitories.

Instead of relieving her concerns about Draco, the brief conversation she had had with him (if you could count one word answers as a conversation) had only made her more worried about him…

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**A/N: Thank you very much for reading :) I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far :)**


	7. Chapter 7

It made Draco uncomfortable to think about having to attend a meeting of the prefect team… He knew that the other prefects thought it was a huge error of judgement on McGonagall's part, for choosing him to be head boy… He couldn't understand why; the past six years he had spent aligning himself with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters – he had detested everything that Harry Potter and Dumbledore had stood for. His allegiance to the pureblood cause had been instilled in him from the day that he was born… and now, the ground underneath his feet had been shifted monumentally. He had decided to come back to Hogwarts mainly because he didn't want to be on his own in the Manor; he couldn't bear the thought of spending most of his time alone, confined within the gates of his house awaiting the confirmation of what he knew was going to happen to his parents. They were going to be charged with war crimes and with possession of dark artefacts, and they would go through a period of rehabilitation in a facility, but he had no idea how long that would take. This was a new system which had been implemented by Kingsley Shacklebolt as the new minister for magic, as an emphasis to take away from imprisoning people – except under extreme circumstances – and moving towards enabling those who had committed a crime to move back into the community.

For the time being, Draco's parents were being held before being tried and sentenced, this was the case for the majority of the ex-Death Eaters that were still alive. He had expected that he would be arrested along with his parents, he hadn't anticipated the aurors saying: "You were just a child; you had very little choice about what you were doing."

Draco had been dumbfounded at that response, and watched as his parents were taken away and him left behind… That was wrong. It still felt wrong – he had _done _things, things equal to what his parents had done – or so he thought – both before and after he turned seventeen. He should be being held along with them; he should be being tried for war crimes too…

Whenever he thought about it his stomach churned inside him; he could hardly bear the thought of his father anymore – the knowledge of realising that his father had been responsible for the death of at least two wizards, been involved in the injury of several muggles and wizards alike… Draco had never realised just how deeply involved his father had actually been, despite him boasting about being the Dark Lord's right hand man – Draco knew that all of the Death Eaters had made that claim… Draco had always taken that statement with a pinch of salt; his father was tough – but he hadn't credited him as capable of murder… At this moment, Draco didn't want to see his father, and if, by some chance, he got off with the charges Draco wasn't quite sure how he would react. He just didn't want to be associated with that anymore… and he knew being back at school hadn't helped that. He could feel eyes on him wherever he went, boring into him; the intensity of their stares was so potent that he felt as though it was burning his skin – their judgement. The students didn't even bother to keep their voices down as they pointed, whispering about _that Draco Malfoy. _How could he blame them? He had always been subversive, he had always been on the wrong side… and he couldn't expect three months and a little bit of time away from the school to make people think any different. He wished he could go back and re-write history; he didn't want to _be _Draco Malfoy anymore… Draco Malfoy was a liar, a cheat, a bigot, a _Death Eater. _And Draco Malfoy was lost…

It had started during the War… the awareness that this was wrong, that he wasn't even being viewed as a person – just a number. He was nothing, he _meant nothing. _He had experienced something like this feeling before, in his sixth year, when he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, but it had never been this strong… It was like a hand had plunged its way down his throat and was gripping his heart with an iron vice, the very essence of who he was as a person had been ripped out and stamped on… The person, the soul of what made him who he was, was gone – and all that was left was the empty shell…

There was an ever present hole inside him, that had begun just underneath his breast bone and radiated throughout the rest of his body, consuming him and filling him up with blackness which constantly plagued him, neverendingly reminding him about what he had been a part of; and what he had done.

And that was where the alcohol came in. Her just wanted time where he didn't have to remember; where ever second another batch of memory wasn't pressing into his skull and branding itself into every waking moment of his life… At first one drink had been enough to relax how he felt inside, like an uncoiling of a knot inside him; two drinks and he began to get drowsy, but that had been in July… Now it was September and one drink barely even touched the sides… It was no issue for Draco to get through two-thirds, to three-quarters of a bottle in one night now. The temporary relief it provided was worth it though… He would do anything for the chance just to forget, to not be worrying about his parents; or what the other students at school thought about him; or whether his parents were going to be set free without charge… It was all too much to think about for one person, and drinking freed him for just long enough to get to sleep… He had thought that it would be difficult for him to get any alcohol into the school, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy to get it into Hogwarts… The security had clearly gone down, not every parcel was being checked on its way in, and all he needed to do was send an owl to the outside world and they would send a package of firewhisky in… He was over seventeen; it wasn't really like they could prohibit it… He didn't even think that anyone – barring those who were in his dormitory – would even know that he had it… But he had to be careful. If it became too obvious what his evening pastime was, then it wouldn't be too long until a teacher found out – and that would spell real trouble, and would more than likely result in him being sent away from Hogwarts, and he wasn't sure he wanted that to happen… But it had all been worth it so far. The relief was worth it, even though everyday brought a reminder: his brain was pounding from as soon as he gained consciousness in the morning, so by midday it had developed into a rhythmically thumping headache so bad that it eclipsed everything else. The thought of food in the morning was enough to make his stomach turn, by the Thursday of the first week Draco had given up on going to meals in the Great Hall. He was constantly exhausted, the eyes of others and his mind weighing down heavily in him; even after a few drinks sleep was not easy to fall into.

By the Monday of the second week, Draco was so exhausted and so hungover that he couldn't even open his eyes… He could hear all the other boys in the dormitory getting up and leaving for breakfast while he lay in his bed, which felt like it was pitching and swaying underneath him. He could miss one class… That wouldn't cause any problems, not really anyway… He could catch up on a bit of sleep and be in time for morning break; however, the next time Draco opened his eyes it was 14:17. He had slept through all the morning and part of the afternoon classes, there wasn't much point of him going to the last class of the day so he remained in the dormitory, with the curtains of his four poster drawn to hide him from the view of anyone coming in.

That was only one day, surely no one would have even noticed his absence… but he knew he couldn't constantly miss days.

In spite of his self-reminder that he mustn't allow any sign of dissolve, or untoward behaviour, or he would attract attention to himself, of the kind he didn't want, the same thing happened on Tuesday. It was Wednesday before he returned to classes, he was quite sure that no one would have even noticed that he had been missing. It was after potions that Hermione Granger caught up with him and arranged the prefect meeting for Saturday evening… and that was where he was now: worrying about the meeting, where he knew he would be shunned to the point of being ignored. He didn't know whether being ignored would feel better… would complete ignorance of his existence make him feel better than being pointed at and whispered about? He didn't know, and a small part of him knew that he wouldn't be able to experience that disassociation for a time yet. He wouldn't fade into the background in two weeks… even though that was what he desperately wanted; to disappear entirely.

By Friday lunchtime, Draco had gone over every possible eventuality for what could happen at the prefect team meeting, and he had decided it would be best if he didn't go… He would just stay away, and that wouldn't complicate matters. Then at the end of Friday's classes he put his hand in the pocket of his robe and pulled out a folded sheaf of parchment – that he was sure hadn't been there earlier on. Flicking it open, he read:

_'Draco, I thought I'd let you know that I managed to get the charms classroom at 6 on Saturday evening so we can all discuss what we're going to do for the rest of the year._

_ Hope to see you there, Hermione.'_

Draco stared at the note for a few seconds; he couldn't recall the note being slipped into his pocket… She must have done it when he hadn't been paying attention.

But he had already made up his mind up, he wasn't going to the meeting; yet the words that Hermione had signed the note with stuck out to him: _'Hope to see you there.' _She was expecting him to turn up; it wasn't like she couldn't cope without him there though… She would do perfectly fine on her own. It was just a tiny thought that was niggling into him, he really _should _go – even if it was just to hide in the corner and listen to what everyone else said. He would wait and see what he felt like tomorrow, then he would make decisions.

Draco had already realised that Saturdays were going to be very lonely for him at Hogwarts; none of his friends – if they even were that anymore – had returned to school so he didn't have anyone to spend the time with. He ended up sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, attempting to complete homework that they had been set during the week, while groups of chatting students encircled him. More often than not he found himself staring blankly at the work he was supposed to be doing, rather than actually doing it. He just couldn't get his brain into gear, maybe that was just because he didn't particularly want to do any work; he was thinking about the note, and the prefect meeting scheduled for later on that day… He couldn't bring himself to make a decision, he thought he already had – but now he was doubting it.

By half past five, when all the rest of the students had gone down to dinner, Draco had decided that he was going to the meeting, just to show his face. His gut might disagree with him, but his head knew what he had to do to stay at Hogwarts.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading so far! I hope you're enjoying the story so far - I'd love to know what you think of this chapter! :)  
Also - I'm at a conference for the next week, so I'm going to have limited internet access, but I'll try and get on to post the next couple of chapters - I'll do my best! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying reading this story! I've really been enjoying writing it! I just wanted to put in a warning that there is graphic references to self-harm within this chapter, please look after yourself while reading this chapter - and if you want to chat about anything, send me a PM!**

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"I'm not sure what I'm going to talk to them about…" Hermione wrung her hands together, concern etched across her features. For the past three days, Hermione had spent all of her free time worrying about the prefect meeting scheduled for Saturday night; now, on Saturday afternoon, she was close to hysterical panic.

"Isn't that kind of the point of the meeting?" Ginny asked, sounding slightly exasperated with Hermione's worry. "Brainstorming session? Telling everyone else what you're meant to be doing and getting their ideas on how to do it?"

"Yeah.. I guess…" Hermione conceded, her fingers running nervously over a list of topics that she had written down in a notebook that it would be good to cover during the course of the meeting.

"You'll be fine Hermione." Neville said encouragingly, smiling at her as he scribbled down notes for a herbology essay he was writing.

"Yeah… " She murmured; but what was worrying her wasn't so much the actual meeting, but the challenge of what they had to achieve. Uniting the four school houses seemed like a daunting challenge, especially in the current climate… The slytherin students were still very much distinct from the rest of the school population, combatting this would mean changing the mindset of not just the slytherins, but the hufflepuffs, the ravenclaws and the gryffindors also – and feelings and prejudices were deeply inset – and still close to the surface after the war. How was she supposed to come up with ideas to bring everyone together, when even Draco was so distant and withdrawn from the rest of the students? It felt impossible… and she hoped that the prefect meeting might change that, however she wasn't convinced.

At ten to six, Hermione made her way along to the charms class to get ready for the meeting – only to find Ernie and Padma already standing outside the door.

"We thought you might need some help setting up…" Padma said, grinning at her.

"We weren't sure whether you'd get any other help." Ernie explained, as Hermione opened the door to the classroom, and waved her want to illuminate the lights. Hermione knew that Ernie meant Draco, she couldn't really blame him; but she felt bad disregarding him before they had really done anything as a team.

"Thanks guys," Hermione said as they followed her into the class. "I haven't really thought about setting up the room… Although it would be good if everyone could see each other…" The three of them went about, moving the chairs into a kind of circle so that everyone would be facing inwards.

By five to six, nineteen out of the twenty-eight prefects who were part of the team had arrived and filtered into the room in small groups. Hermione took out the list that she had written of things to go over and placed it on the table in front of her; this prefect team was the biggest it had ever been, because of the return of those in her year to Hogwarts.

Just as Hermione was about to start, Draco Malfoy entered the room; and as the seat at the table next to Hermione was the only one left in the circle, he sat down looking uncomfortable. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with what she was about to do, she would have spoken to him; but as the rest of the prefects had fallen silent as he entered she thought it would be best just to make a start, rather than draw more attention to him.

"Um… hello everyone." She began, her heart beating rather fast in her chest with all the faces in the circle, apart from Draco, focussed upon her; there was a small chorus of 'hi's'. "I thought it would be a good idea to have a meeting and talk about what we've got to do this year…" She continued, looking down at the list in her nervousness, "Draco and I had a meeting with Professor McGonagall last week and she would like us to come up with a few ideas, or events that we could do to bring together the school. I didn't think it was a good idea for just us two," She indicated to Draco and herself, "to come up with ideas, so that's why I called this meeting – so you could all give your opinions and ideas about what we could do to achieve it."

"What do you mean by events to 'bring the school together'?" One of the fifth year hufflepuff prefects asked, her eyes narrowed as though confused.

"Well…" Hermione took a breath, she had wanted to avoid this topic, but it seemed that it would be the only way to make it clear what they were trying to do. "All of us in this room understand what happened earlier on this year," She replied quickly, she spotted a little bit of uncomfortable movement, particularly from the Slytherin prefects, yet Draco beside her was perfectly still. "Before and during the War, there has always been a very distinct split in the Hogwarts students. For years now, the Slytherin students have been separated from the other three houses; everyone has been part of doing it and it will take everyone cooperating together to break down the prejudices that have built up… it won't happen instantaneously, but hopefully we will start something which will change the way Hogwarts students live together." She finished, and there was a small silence before Ernie said:

"Here here!" He was nodding in an approving manner, "Well said – I think that's really important." A few of the other prefect murmured in agreement with him.

"Yes, it is rather… that's why I think we should all be involved in coming up with ideas." Hermione repeated; for a few long seconds there was complete silence, then Hermione looked down at her list and suggested: "I thought it might be good if we had different levels of events… like maybe a few larger events, and then a couple more small ones. I thought we could brainstorm ideas, write them all down and decide what are the best ones."

"How about a Christmas ball?" The seventh year Ravenclaw prefect, Elayna, suggested.

"Yeah, like the Yule Ball!" Padma agreed with her, "And everyone would have to bring a partner, it might help the different houses mix." Hermione jotted down the idea quickly.

"And we could have a summer ball too, after exams." One of the boys agreed.

"But if we just do parties it gets kind of boring…" The Slytherin sixth year Astoria Greengrass drawled rather slowly. "We should try to do something smaller first… like a buddy system, or a book club."

"But there's already study clubs in the school." Ernie pointed out; Hermione was attempting to write down everything and listen at the same time.

"Yeah, but they don't really promote inter-house relations at the moment, do they?" Astoria responded.

"Draco, do you think you could write everything down, just so I can listen too?" Hermione muttered lowly to Draco, who was sitting with his arms folded over his chest, staring at the table top. He did not say anything in response, but nodded his head in curt answer; accepting the quill that Hermione had been using to scribe.

"It doesn't matter if we already have something similar in the school already, if we do we could always use it as a starting point." Hermione said reassuringly.

"Could we not organise some kind of team building sort of thing?" A dark haired hufflepuff proffered.

"Wouldn't that reinforce the house boundaries?"

"Not if we put everyone into groups that were a mixture of houses…"

An hour and a half later, the discussions seemed to be drawing to a close; Draco had filled one side of the parchment with suggestions like: Christmas ball, school concerts, book clubs, school choir, art clubs, school plays, and buddy schemes; and he had turned the parchment over to get more space… However the suggestions were beginning to dry up, and the group fell into longer and longer silences, until Hermione felt it was best to stop.

"I think we should leave it there… thanks very much guys, that's a good number of suggestions; if you think of any more let Draco or I know, we'll have to take them to McGonagall and see what she thinks we will be able to do…" Hermione rounded up. "When we know what we're going to be able to do, I'll let you all know so that if you want to be involved in planning something you'll get the chance to…"

As the rest of the prefect team left, Hermione turned to Draco:

"Are you free tomorrow?" Hermione asked directly, Draco blinked.

"I…" He cleared his throat, not having used his voice for hours it was rather croaky. "Yes."

"I think it would be good if the two of us went through the list and weeded out the best suggestions." She said, noting again that he did not look up while she was talking.

"Alright." He agreed.

"Would tomorrow afternoon be alright? After lunch?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Great, I'll meet you outside the great hall." She bundled up the parchment that she had brought and walked, besides Draco, out of the classroom. At the end of the corridor, she turned to climb the stairs up towards the Gryffindor common room: "Well, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Back in the common room Hermione scanned over the list of ideas that Draco had written, there were some good ideas in it… some that might help with their task. But Hermione wasn't really thinking about the list, or the ideas, or what they had to do next; she was thinking about Draco… The dull eyes that stared out from a face so pale that it could have been a skull; there was a lifelessness about him, about the presence he had in a room. If there was one thing that Hermione was absolutely certain about, it was that the Draco Malfoy that had returned to Hogwarts was not the one that had been before. He was different, he had changed… and it was almost scary. Draco before had been boastful, confident, _assured_ of who he was; and now he seemed lacking in everything… Maybe that was why Professor McGonagall had asked her to look out for him, because she recognised the change… Hermione didn't know much about these things, but she knew better than to dismiss the way he felt… which probably, and possibly justifiably, was depressed.

Draco spent the next three hours trying to wind down after the prefect meeting; through the duration of it his heart had been hammering at ten times its normal speed. Fair enough there hadn't been any direct, or even indirect, comments about him, his family or what he used to be, but the anticipation of such a comment had him on edge. The aftermath was almost worse. Having to take in that nothing _had _been said was difficult; perhaps if someone had said something it would justify why he was feeling so restless now. In an odd kind of way, if people were actively singling him out, it would be easier to deal with; but the whispering and old perceptions were difficult to combat if they weren't out in the open… And people didn't openly air the issue; to Draco, it seemed like everyone was talking in secret, everyone was judging, everyone was whispering about the _Death Eater. _

"Death Eater": those two words had a worse effect on Draco than anything else ever could. He felt compressed, like someone was standing on his chest, bearing down upon his skull, forcing unbearable pressure on him. The weight descended on him whenever he thought of those words; and only one thing could add to that feeling, the Dark Mark. Branded into his flesh, he couldn't undress without seeing the reminder of what he was. The skull was just as pitch black as it had been on that day when the Dark Lord had grasped his wrist with those long, cold fingers; he could still picture the gleam that had been in his eyes as he imprinted his insignia into Draco's pale forearm. The pain had been unlike anything Draco had ever felt in his life; he had wanted to scream out in protest, to pull away his arm, to cry; but none of those had been an option… With the absence of his father, Draco was the man of the Malfoy family, and weakness was not acceptable. No doubt if he had shown distress then Voldemort would have enjoyed it even more. So he had clenched his jaw and kept silent; at the time he had been led to believe that this mark was an honour. That this mark would forever single him out as one of the devout – a chosen follower. Before it had never really fulfilled that purpose, he had still been dismissed as Lucius' son, or as a silly little school kid not worthy of the prestige. Now it singled him out, as an idiot and a fool – and he was determined to get rid of it. He was glad that the Hogwarts uniform meant that they had to wear long sleeved robes, as it could hide everything that he had done.

Draco was sat on his bed in his dormitory, his curtains drawn shut concealing him; it was now the early hours of the morning, and all he could hear was the muffled sounds of the rest of the boys in the room, they were all asleep. Draco was the only one still awake. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, his insides twisting at the sight of the ugly mark; it had been a while since he had tried to do anything about it, but the last marks around it had faded. From the top drawer of his bedside cabinet he took out a small drawstring bag, inside it he kept a razor that he had acquired. His fingers no longer trembled as he picked up the blade; with the index finger of his right hand he outlined the area that he wanted gone. He hoped that maybe, if he cut deep enough, he could remove the patch of skin with the dark mark branded on it. A section of scarred skin was worth it if he could remove the mark… Blood sprang to the surface almost the instant he placed the blade to his flesh, but that did not concern him; he scraped almost carelessly at the skin around the mark. He didn't feel pain; the sharp tinge of the metal against flesh produced no pain despite the blood that began to drip down the side of his arm. He cleaned the edge of the blade on a tissue, noting a tiny amount of black that accompanied the otherwise white skin. It wasn't going to go this time, he would have to work at this over a prolonged period, but he had expected that – he could only hope that it would disappear entirely. He didn't make a sound as he tried to pare away at the tattoo, not a gasp of pain or intake of breath. On the contrary, while he was working, it was like the constant weight that was on him had lifted temporarily. His mind was clear, he had only had one glass of firewhisky tonight, and his head and hand was as steady as it was when he was stone cold sober.

The morning was a different story altogether. Draco was aware of the painful throbbing in his left arm before he was even fully conscious, and the pain seemed to intensify as he stirred, sending twinges up past his elbow and down towards his fingers. The watch that lay on his bedside cabinet, and refused to wear anymore, told him that it was quarter past twelve, that should mean that his dormitory would be empty. That was a good thing too, as when he got out of bed he realised that he hadn't stemmed the blood flow as well as he had thought. The lower half of his sleeve was crisp with dried blood, and his bed sheets looked as though someone had been murdered in them.

Locked in one of the shower cubicles in the bathroom, he attempted to peel away the cloth of his sleeve, which had somehow stuck to the wounds in his arm. The hot water of the shower stung at the cuts on his forearm, reopening some of the scabs which began to bleed again; he could still see the dark mark, clearly it hadn't been deep enough to take it away. He bound his arm with a towel while he got dried and dressed, making sure that the blood had stopped oozing from it when he uncovered it.

He didn't go to lunch in the Great Hall, but lingered outside in the entrance hall for Hermione to appear. He felt strange as, unlike the prefect meeting, he hadn't been dreading this. Hermione had been the only student in the whole school who had said more than two words to him since he had been back at Hogwarts. It was a bit ironic that the only person to speak to him now had been one of the people he used to scorn and tease. But that was probably because she was Head Girl, and he was Head Boy, so they had to communicate.

"Draco? Draco…" Draco had zoned out, standing about two feet from the door to the Great Hall and didn't notice that Hermione was talking to him until she was standing right in front of him.

"Oh… sorry." He replied when he realised.

"The first floor classrooms are normally open; I thought we could go into one of them so we're not disturbed by loads of people making noise." She suggested.

"Okay." Draco agreed, he could feel his heart speeding up as he walked alongside Hermione to the first corridor. The first classroom was full of a group of second years playing gobstones, the second contained about nine girls who appeared to be painting each other's nails, the third was empty.

"Here we go…" Hermione said, opening the door. She sat down at one of the tables at the front of the room, and Draco sat facing her at the other side of the table. "I was having a think about this last night, cause we did get a lot of ideas at the meeting." Draco nodded; Hermione paused as though she was waiting for a reply, but started talking again when Draco remained silent. "I was thinking that it would be good to do a couple of the big ideas as like whole school events, so there's something that everyone can get involved with, then setting up some of the smaller clubs as well. Do you think that would be a good idea?"

"Yeah." Draco muttered; he carefully leant his left arm on the table top, the throbbing had started pulsing through his arm again and it was taking most of his concentration to focus on what she was saying to him.

"So I've got two sheets of parchment and I thought we could divide the ideas up into ones that would work as big events and whittle them down from there." He nodded again to show he understood; he didn't know why she was even bothering… Hermione could do this with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to, she didn't need him to organise these events. "Right," Hermione started, after writing _'Big events'_ at the top of one sheet and _'Small events' _at the top of the other. "The Christmas and summer balls, I think they should be in the big events list, cause they would involve the whole school." Draco just nodded again and Hermione noted them at the top of the list. "Then, school concert… Well if that was going to happen there would need to be some musical clubs, what have we got?" She ran her finger down the list that Draco had written the day before. "School choir, that would be really good if we could get someone to head it up… I'm not musical really, my parents sent me to piano lessons when I was really little but the teacher said I wasn't co-ordinated enough." It was like Hermione had realised that Draco wasn't going to reply to him, so she was filling what would otherwise be silence with rambling. "Maybe Professor McGonagall will be able to suggest someone… Yeah, someone suggested other musical ensembles too…" She had paused again, but Draco knew he was here just for show – she could have done all of this in her common room alone. "If we put drama club into the clubs and activities, then school play on the big events – again we'd have to as McGonagall if she knows someone who could help…"

Hermione slowly moved down the list, separating the ideas onto the two pieces of parchment, talking aloud – although with the amount that Draco was actually responding, she might as well have done it on her own. Most of the categorisations Draco simply made a noise of assent to whatever Hermione said, he vaguely was aware that he wasn't being any help whatso3ever…

After half an hour, Hermione was nearly finished going through the list; Draco heard her sigh heavily as once again she asked a question of Draco and he just nodded shortly in reply.

"I actually do want your input Draco…" Hermione said very abruptly. "You're not just here for show." She sounded exasperated, Draco could feel her gaze upon him and it made him feel uncomfortable. For a few seconds he bit his tongue, then he said what he really thought:

"You don't _need _me here though." He burst out suddenly. "You could organise all of this without me. I don't even know why I was picked to be Head Boy! I can think of a dozen other people who would be so much better!" Draco had risen to his feet, wishing to leave, wanting to be away from this confrontation – and the truth. "You don't need me here." He stated; he made a movement to leave, but Hermione's hand suddenly darted out and caught his left wrist. He could have gasped as a shot of pain ran up through his arm which, unbeknownst to Hermione, was littered with deep cuts.

"You're here because you were chosen, and you were chosen because you're the right person for this post." Hermione asserted firmly; she was looking directly into Draco's face, he avoided her eyes. "I don't _want _to do this on my own, I need help to do this right…" Hermione admitted; for a few seconds there was a silence while the two of them just stood there, then Hermione came to the realisation that she was still gripping onto Draco's wrist. She looked down briefly, and her eyes widened in shock; the inside of Draco's sleeve was soaked with blood spots, fresh and crimson. "Draco… You're bleeding." She brought his arm up to look at the outside of his sleeve; the connection that had been between them a second before, with each of them beginning to understand the other, was instantly broken. Draco wrenched his arm out of Hermione's grip, looking horrified.

"I have to go." He muttered quickly, and before Hermione could say anything else he had turned on his heels and sped out of the classroom.

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**A/N: Thank you so much for reading this so far, I'd love to know what you think/feel about this chapter or the whole story so far!  
(Also, I'm really sorry for not updating sooner, I'm at a conference so I've not had internet- hopefully I'll be able to update again soon!) **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for everyone who has read so far - I really hope you're enjoying it! I'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but I've been away at a conference for a week! I'm back now though so I should be updating quicker (hopefully!)  
There's also reference to alcohol/alcohol issues in this chapter - just to warn anyone, keep yourself safe while reading :)**

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There had been a moment, one tiny fraction of a second, in which Hermione had gotten a glimpse of what Draco was really like now… For that brief moment she understood that he was confused; he didn't understand what his role meant, or that Hermione genuinely did want him to help. It seemed like he was under the impression that he had been given Head Boy-ship _because _he was a Slytherin… He didn't seem to comprehend that he had been chosen because he was talented, and a role model – who had made mistakes, and considerable ones at that – but who was trying to get his act together and rectify those mistakes now. It just so happened that he was also a Slytherin, but that hadn't been the defining reason why he was selected. Well, that's what Hermione thought… There was definitely a better chance of uniting the students if the prefects and those in leadership showed better unison. Ernie and Padma were wonderful, both of them had been a lot of help already – but there was still the subtle prejudice in both of them, whether it was purely against Draco or wider against all Slytherins it wasn't quite clear; prejudices were easy to hide and that wasn't conducive to a good union. Needless to say a non-communicative Draco wouldn't be too much help either! Hermione felt like she had missed her chance to get through to Draco; she was getting through to him, until she saw the blood leaking through his sleeve, then she had panicked… And judging by his reaction, he had panicked too.

The next few weeks passed incredibly fast; the work that the seventh years were given was beginning to mount up. Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna spent most of their free time in the library studying and completing homework. Hermione didn't forget what Professor McGonagall had asked her to do, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Draco remained very withdrawn, it was uncommon to see him in the Great Hall, and during classes he remained silent; increasingly it seemed like he was in his own little world.

Despite attending the first meeting with McGonagall and the first prefect team meeting, Draco didn't turn up to the second meeting that Hermione arranged with McGonagall to go over the ideas that the prefect team had come up with. With McGonagall's approval of the ideas that Hermione had whittled down herself, she was able to arrange another full prefect meeting to relay the news and set up committees. The prefects were split into three committees: one to organise a Christmas ball; another to organise a school concert; and a third to organise a school play. Each group had a teacher to head them up, Professor McGonagall had agreed to assist with the ball, Professor Flitwick was to help with the concert, and Professor Sprout to head up the group in charge of the school play. The result of the meetings with the full prefect team and with McGonagall led to the agreement that the Christmas Ball would be split into two sections, the first part for the first to third years and the second for fourth years and above – a feast joining them together. The concert would be in early spring – around Easter; and the play later on in the summer term – with tickets going to be available after Christmas. That side of being back at school was all coming together… The only part that wasn't turning out as she hoped, was Draco… She didn't particularly want to tell tales on him, but her concern was growing daily.

October rolled in, and brought with it heavy sheets of rain that battered against the castle windows and glass so loudly that it became difficult to hear Professor Sprout when they were working in the greenhouses. The plans that Hermione had been working through as part of her Head Girl duties meant that she had been busy every night of the week; the three prefect committees had been working well in co-ordination with one another and with Hermione. Already some of the plans were coming together – a choir had been set up in preparation for the concert; dates chosen for all three events; and Hermione was beginning to relax into her intended role without stressing about doing everything by herself. She was learning that delegation was the key to being Head Girl; but if only she could get Draco to share in the delegation. In the first week of October she received another letter from Harry, filling her in about the trop that he and Ron were on; they were in Egypt now, staying with Bill's old mates – and by the evidence of the photos that Harry had included in the letter, it looked like they were having a fantastic time. For the first time since she had been back at school she felt a slight pang of sadness… It would have been nice to go with the two of them, despite the fact that it would probably have become awkward after she and Ron had stopped seeing each other. She _was _surprised, however, at Harry's reaction to the news that she had told him in her replying letter, about Draco being chosen to be Head Boy – she had kind of expected him to be outraged, but his reply sounded cordial, and more mature than she would have given him credit for.

_'It must have been difficult for him to choose to go back… I don't think I could have faced coming back to Hogwarts so soon after the War, and well, he wasn't exactly on the right side, was he? Professor McGonagall knows what she's doing though, and I'm sure that she chose him for good reasons.' _Hermione had been affirmed by his reply, as that was exactly what she had been trying to convince herself of… Hermione had thought, or maybe she had been hoping, that Draco might have settled back into the life of the school; but, alas, it didn't seem that the rest of the students were going to let that happen. Several times Hermione witnessed groups of younger students whispering, pointing, and sometimes actually catcalling, when Draco passed them in the corridor. She wanted to do something about it, she had to bite her tongue a few times; she always held herself back, reminding herself that it wasn't her place to get involved. Yet whenever she thought about those moments in retrospect, she felt guilty about not doing anything to help…

That Saturday evening, Hermione was in one of the window desks in the library that looked out towards the lake and the forest, the east wing of Hogwarts only just visible from the particular window she was sitting at. She had been in the same place for nearly five hours now, and although she had finished her own work ages ago, Neville, Ginny and Luna were all still working… well, in all honesty they were sitting chatting in low voices about the transfiguration work they were meant to be completing. The sky outside had been overcast all day, great grey rainclouds had been hanging low in the sky throughout dispersing vast quantities of water. The surface of the lake looked as though it was being pummelled with the raindrops that were hitting it; now the sky was beginning to darken as night crept in. Hermione was staring out of the window – she had been half listening to the conversation her friends were having and half watching the rain that was flowing in memorizing patterns on the windows; she had been sitting in this position for half an hour, observing the rain and the darkening sky. A bright flash of light somewhere near the edge of the east wing caught Hermione's eye through the greyness of the evening; at first she thought it must be someone turning on a light in that part of the castle, but then it happened again. It was a pure white light, the kind of beam that was produced out of a wand with the 'lumos' enchantment; it flared for a moment and then vanished again. Hermione stared out of the window, watching for the light again; she stared for so long with nothing reoccurring that she began to wonder whether she had imagined it… but just as she turned away, she saw the blaze of light for the third time. Pure white, it illuminated the side of the castle wall that faced out onto the lake; through the gloom she could almost make out a figure, whoever it was would be soaked through, the rain was enough to drench a person through in seconds. She couldn't explain why, but she was filled with a sinking feeling about who that figure out in the grounds in the rain was… When the light flashed again, the suspicion that she had, looked like it was confirmed, the wand lit up a wash of white blond hair. The sky had almost darkened to deep navy and the rain was still obscuring the vision from the window; Hermione's heart had begun to pound in her chest, she looked over at Neville, Luna and Ginny before collecting up the books she had been using for her homework into her arms, muttering a word of apology to the rest of them and leaving the library. She rushed up the staircases to the Gryffindor dormitory, depositing the books and homework in a pile on her bed; grabbing a jacket, she resolved to at least check and see if the person out in the grounds was alright – especially as she was almost certain that that person was Draco. She hadn't forgotten the promise she had made to Professor McGonagall, and honestly, no one should be outside in that weather, not unless they were aiming to get hypothermia…

From the instant that Hermione stepped out from underneath the doors of the castle, the water seeped through her clothes, drenching her jeans, infiltrating through the, supposedly, waterproof hood of her jacket. The rain was so heavy that it was almost difficult to see more than a few steps ahead of her, and she was heading in the general direction of where she thought the light had come from – the water on the ground beginning to make the grass underfoot slippy, and feeling the creeping of cold water that had gotten into her shoes and was gradually spreading through the material of her socks. As she reached the area where she was sure she had seen the figure, she tried – as the person had done – to light her want, but clearly the dampness of the night was too much for it and it was instantly snuffed out. She found the edge of the wall and proceeded along until her feet bumped into something solid. Bending down, she saw the white blond hair that confirmed it to be Draco Malfoy; he was slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and the water soaking through his hair and running down his face.

"Draco?" Hermione bent down, putting her hand on Draco's sopping wet shoulder and giving it a little shake. There was no response from Draco, his eyes stayed closed. "Draco, come on Draco…" Hermione squeezed his shoulder again, trying not to encroach upon his personal space too much. The rain was still coming down very hard, and Hermione was beginning to shiver with the cold. She couldn't stay out here, and neither could Draco; otherwise the both of them would get ill from the chill. "Oh God, oh God… what am I supposed to do?" Hermione moaned, dithering on the spot even though the water was creating puddles in the bottom of her shoes. "Draco!" Hermione tapped on Draco's face, still to no avail; she sighed and made her decision.

Gripping onto Draco's cold wrist she hoisted him up, placing one of his arms around her neck so that she could support his weight. She was surprised at how limp his body was, and how light he was; she pulled him upright so she was supporting his weight. Draco didn't even stir, and Hermione was convinced now that he was completely and utterly unconscious… She had no idea why or how he was in such a state on a Saturday evening, or how he had ended up unconscious and slouched against the east wing…

By the time that Hermione had reached the front door she was trying to hold up Draco; but was trying to think about what she was going to do when she got inside the castle… What was she supposed to do with an unconscious Draco? Did she take him to the hospital wing? But she had no idea exactly why Draco was unconscious, and she felt an inexplicable loyalty to him… She didn't want to get him in trouble.

Where the hell could she go? She couldn't take him down to the Slytherin common room – for one thing she wasn't really sure exactly where it was… She couldn't take him up to the Gryffindor common room, he certainly wouldn't get a welcome reception in there' no matter how hard people pretended that they had nothing against the Slytherins she knew that the courtesy didn't extend to Draco… She was also kind of worried about how she was going to get through the corridors without being seen – it wasn't like she had Harry's invisibility cloak to hide under anymore. There was one definite though; she couldn't stand outside in the rain holding Draco up… Where could she go away from students, that she could make sure that Draco was okay…? Then it hit her: the Room of Requirement. If she could get Draco up the stairs and into the Room of Requirement then she would be safe. The Room of Requirement would keep them sheltered against anyone finding them – at least until Draco was conscious again, and then she could find out why he was out in that weather by himself… Hoisting Draco's arm more firmly around her neck, securing him into a more upright position, despite him actually being unconscious; she grasped his wrist tightly and made her way quickly in through the entrance hall towards the marble staircase. The absence of the flow of heavy rain felt like a weight was being lifted from Hermione's head, yet Draco'[s dea weight was not relieved any… She didn't break her stride, she wasn't going to let any student who might be out in the corridors get a glimpse of her, and her burden for more than a few seconds... Luckily, as it was nearly eight o'clock on a Saturday night, with the miserable weather, most people were in the warmth of their own common rooms rather than wandering about in the drafty corridors. Hermione wasn't as strong as she had thought, by the time she was at the sixth floor her legs were aching from the amount of stairs she had climbed, supporting Draco; she was gasping for air and repeating in her mind: _'Just one more set of stairs, just one more set of stairs!' _

Hermione dropped the unconscious Draco down against the blank stretch of wall across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy teaching trolls ballet, and stood for a few seconds, regaining her breath. She looked at Draco one last time, and then strolled back and forth along the corridor, thinking _'We need somewhere to hide', _three times she walked up and down intoning this in her head, when she stopped a door had sprung into life in the, before, blank, stone wall. She rushed forward, once again hoisting Draco up and holding one arm around his waist to keep him up, and opened the door to the Room of Requirement and went inside. The Room of Requirement had done its job; there was a low bed with a turned back duvet – that Hermione helped Draco over to it and lowered him onto it gently. After swinging his legs up onto the bed, she directed her want at him and cast a charm to dry his clothes. It would at least take the worst of the water away, she turned her wand on her own clothes – and was grateful of it, as the cold had been beginning to penetrate through her skin into her very core. The drying of Draco's and her own clothes had taken a few moments, but once that was done Hermione stood still, suddenly realising that she had no idea what she should do with an unconscious Draco. She was still for a long time, just staring at Draco on the bed; she could see his chest rising and falling so at least he was breathing… She was beginning to think that it might have been a better idea to take Draco to the hospital wing, because now she was alone with him, she had absolutely no clue how to help him, and the panic was rising in her chest…

Draco was unconscious; what if there was something really wrong with him? How long should she wait and see if he regained consciousness before actually going for help? Even if – when – Draco woke up, how would he react to it being her that had brought him inside? Would he be angry with her? Or would he still be indifferent…

Every horrible possibility was flashing in front of Hermione's eyes as she stood, watching Draco. And as she watched, she noticed that his breathing was quicker than ususal, that his ribcage was quite clearly visible through his long sleeved t-shirt, and that his face was very, very pale… He looked a pitiable state. She felt sorry for him more than anything else… Hermione could understand what Luna had meant when she said she felt sorry for Draco… Hermione had been pursued during the War as a mudblood, but she had never truly been an outcast… lonely probably. He looked lonely; and Hermione felt bad for him. But now was not the time to be wondering about whether Draco was lonely; as he was stirring where he lat. His eyes flickered and opened, but his gaze was unfocussed and he was shivering.

"Draco?" Hermione said quietly, she was wary of bending down next to him and startling him, as he still seemed rather unaware of his surroundings. "Draco, can you hear me?" She took a couple of steps forwards so that she was able to be seen in his eye line. He raised his hand up to his head automatically, where his still damp hair was plastered down onto his face; he rubbed the back of his head, probably at the part that had hit the wall when he went down. As he heard Hermione' voice he jumped and stared rather wildly.

"Oh God – am I dead?" His words gushed out in a rather slurred manner, his hand still rested on the back of his head. Hermione's heart catapulted into her throat; all the rumours that she had heard about Draco drinking were suddenly weighing heavily in her chest… If they had been true and he had been drinking tonight then that could account for his thick speech, but if he hadn't been drinking then it was possible to could be concussed… And concussion could be serious.

"No, you're not dead." Hermione replied, tensing up over the prospect of trying to find out whether Draco was seriously injured, or just drunk. He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed that had been provided by the room.

"Where the hell am I?" He asked, still slurring and looking rather wobbly while upright.

"You're in the Room of Requirement." Hermione answered, trying to take in as much information from Draco's positioning and appearance that she could.

"The Room of Req-" He had started, sounding incredulous, but stopped abruptly; Hermione could visibly see all of the colour draining from his face, he swallowed noticeably. "Is there a bathroom in here?" He asked very sharply, and his words were not slurred.

"I don't know – I hadn't checked…" She said, looking around and noticing a door at the end of the room. "That might be one…" She proffered, but Draco had obviously noticed the door before she had as he bounded from the bed and towards that door, which turned out, thankfully to be a bathroom. Hermione didn't follow Draco in – that would be inappropriate and rude – but she hovered outside the door, trying to figure out exactly what she should be doing in this situation… She felt awkward, like she was viewing something she shouldn't be, but she also felt compelled to stay, compelled to make sure Draco was alright… And it wasn't purely because McGonagall had asked her to look out for him.

Inside the bathroom Draco was on his knees, the stone floor digging into his knees, but that wasn't the most pressing issue at that moment. His stomach was making strange lurching sensations inside him, his mouth was suddenly filled with too much saliva and he swallowed repeatedly, feeling more sick by the second. He knew he wasn't going to be able to resist this for much longer, the more he swallowed the more inevitable it became that he wasn't going to avoid throwing up… His arms were trembling as he held himself upright and close to the toilet bowl, waiting… and hoping beyond all hope that this feeling might go away. Just as he thought it might be beginning to subside, and as he loosened his grip, his body rebelled against him; he lurched forwards and vomited.

Hermione was standing outside the door, which she had realised must be a bathroom by Draco's non-reappearance; she bit her lip as she hovered, now feeling completely and utterly out of her depth. She could hear Draco throwing up inside the bathroom, and dithered about whether she should go in and check on him. If it went quiet for a prolonged period _then _she would check. Her resolve to find out whether Draco _had _been drinking was becoming stronger the longer she stood there, because if he hadn't been drinking then it could mean he had done some serious damage when he hit his head – and she wasn't going to risk Draco's life over a fear of asking him whether he had had a drink.

It seemed to go on and on, Draco felt as though he had been in that position for hours; his arms aching from holding himself upright, and his knees shaking and sore with being situated on the cold stone floor. Every time that he thought it might be over, his muscles all contracted and it began all over again. Every inch of his body hurt; he didn't know how it was possible for him to still be throwing up – he had hardly eaten anything in the past three days, so where on earth was his body getting it from?

Eventually it seemed like it was over… there was nothing left inside him, and he felt so empty and weak. He rested his back against the wall of the toilet, breathing deeply and trying to stop his hands from shaking. He closed his eyes, he was having trouble remembering the events of this afternoon – how he had ended up here… He knew he had been out in the grounds, and then the rain had started, and his brain had jammed… He couldn't walk straight, he could hardly see, and he had been so cold and wet that he might have jumped right into the lake. He hadn't had _that _much to drink… or he hadn't thought he had. He had tried to find his way back to the entrance of the castle, but the rain was so heavy that he wasn't sure what direction he had been going in… and that was all he could remember until he woke up – in the Room of Requirement with _Hermione Granger… _How had she found him? Why had she brought him here? His eyes snapped open… would she be waiting for him?

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**A/N: I'd love to know what you're thinking about this chapter/whole story so far! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione waited… For twenty-five minutes she stood outside the door inside the Room of Requirement, dithering and arguing with herself about what she should do; there was moment when she was sure she was doing the wrong thing, but those moments always seemed to pass quickly… When the door eventually opened, she jumped in surprise; Draco leant against the doorframe, still very pale and wan, but upright. Hermione's mind went blank, and she couldn't think of anything to say, she just stared at him. Ultimately it was Draco who broke the silence:

"I didn't think you would still be here…" His voice was weaker than usual, and entirely devoid of his usual snark.

"I wasn't about to run off before I knew whether you were alright." Hermione replied honestly; Draco stared at her for a few long seconds, his gaze so steady and questioning that Hermione looked away, feeling uncomfortable. The silence between them stretched on for a long moment, in which Draco seemed to consider her deeply.

""You're different…" He stated plainly, he moved from the doorway, walking slightly unsteadily to the bed and perching upon the edge of it. Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to this; Draco finally stopped staring at her, sinking his head into his hands. Again, Hermione felt a wave of pity for him.

"Would you like some water?" Hermione asked him gently, she was beginning to regain the resolve that she had had before Draco had emerged from the bathroom.

"Please…" He muttered, with her wand she conjured up a cup and filled it up from the taps in the little bathroom. She carried it across to him and sat on the bed next to him, handing across the cup. "Thanks…" Accepting the cup, he took a tentative sip. "I don't understand why you're being nice to me, of all people." He spoke very quietly, almost as though it was an internal thought that Draco didn't realise he was vocalising.

"Why wouldn't I be? I have no reason to hold a grudge?" Hermione responded, the awkward feeling that she was worried about was ebbing away. Draco didn't seem to be resentful, or spiteful that it was her that had brought him in – if anything he was just confused.

"Yeah, right!" Draco scoffed, "If anyone has the right to hold a grudge, you'd be at the top of the list!"

"For what reasons?" She inquired; interested to know why Draco felt she was wronged.

"For what _she _did, at the Manor." He spat, his voice full of loathing; he didn't specify who 'she' was, but by the tone of his voice Hermione reckoned that he meant Bellatrix. "And because of the way that I've treated you, and your friends, for the past seven years."

"What happened at the Manor wasn't your fault, and there was nothing you could have done even if you had been in control. I don't hold that against you." Hermione replied. "And well… you were brought up being told that I was scum because of my blood status, weren't you?"

"Wrongfully, yes." Draco nodded his head.

"So I understand what it's like to be under pressure from your family. But the world is changing _now. _You're not restricted by your families' views, and I'm not hindered by my blood status…" She explained, "_Now _is the time for all that 'pureblood dominance' to end, and all the rumours and dislike of the Slytherins can come to an end too. After everything that has happened, things can't just continue the way they were, there has to be change – and if I'm holding a grudge for things that are long past, then I'm not helping the change."

"You really are different." Draco repeated, the hand which he was holding the cup in wasn't shaking as much now; Hermione was steeling herself to ask the question that had been nagging in her mind since she brought Draco in.

"Have you been drinking?" The words came out much more quickly and bluntly than she had intended them to.

"I – I … uh…" Draco faltered, his gaze suddenly directed away from Hermione to the other side of the room.

"I don't care if you have; I'm not going to get you in trouble or anything…" She clarified, "I just – you must have hit your head pretty hard outside, and if you've not been drinking then it looks like you could have done yourself a bit of damage."

"I'm not concussed or anything." Draco stated firmly.

"So you have been drinking?" That was what she took from that rather evasive reply.

"Only a little bit." He responded.

"At least I know you're not going to die from a head injury then." She said calmly, questions were bubbling up inside her, but she reminded herself that it wasn't her place to ask.

"Aren't you going to tell me off?" Draco asked, sounding surprised that she hadn't done so already.

"Why?" She commented.

"Because drinking is bad, and I shouldn't be doing it in the school." Draco replied; Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"Then you already know what I would say, so there's no point in me reiterating what you already know." She said, "It's your choice, and your reasons, so I'm not going to change what you think." Draco sat very still, he seemed to be chewing over what Hermione had just said; he frowned slightly, clearly unsure of what to say next.

"I say again, _different._" He repeated for the third time.

"I'm not different." Hermione protested.

"You're the only one who has given me the time of day since I got back here…" Draco muttered slowly; perhaps it was still the effect of the alcohol in his bloodstream, but he felt at ease in this situation with Hermione. "I'm serious about that…" Draco said solemnly. "You think I'm joking, but honestly – no one else has even said hello since we came back to school…" He paused, "Not that I can really blame people… I am a _Malfoy._" He spat out his surname like it was offensive, and scowled at his lap.

"That shouldn't matter." Hermione told him cordially.

"You're the only one who thinks that then…" He scoffed; Hermione saw Draco's right hand rest over his left forearm. "I was a-" He stopped talking abruptly. "I was on the wrong side… and I didn't exactly do anything to help." He sounded bitter, regretful.

"You didn't really have a choice…" Hermione stated calmly. "Your family…"

"Does that really negate what I did though?" He cut across her. "I'm not sure that it does… and other people clearly think the same thing."

"Well I don't." Hermione stated firmly. "You've lost just as much as other people have, and the past has to stay in the past." She looked directly into Draco's pale face and was utterly surprised when she saw tears in Draco's light grey eyes.

"Thank you…" He whispered slowly. "I don't know what else to say…" He uttered quietly.

"You don't have to say anything else." Hermione replied, "But promise me one thing…"

"What?"

"That if you're lonely, you come and see me." Draco considered her for a long few seconds and then nodded.

"Okay." He murmured almost inaudibly. "I will…"

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**A/N: Thank you for reading so far - I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far... (Super thanks for everyone for being so patient with me, I'm trying to update as quickly as I can!) :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with this story, thank you to all who've left a comment so far :) Just a wee warning for this chapter - there's a fair amount of Ginny bashing... not directly intentional, it was just the way it came out... **

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It had been over a week since Hermione had rescued Draco from the sodden grounds and brought him to the Room of Requirement, and although Draco had not approached her directly, she sensed that there was an ease about him now. He never spoke to her, especially not in front of people in classes, but once or twice she caught his eyes and saw almost a smile curling the corners of his mouth. A beam of understanding had been forged between the two of them; and for the time being, that made Hermione feel relieved. At least she was doing what she had been asked to; but more than that – it wasn't an obligation.

Draco did seem to have changed since before the War, maybe that should have been expected – but very few other people were getting to see that other side because of their prejudices. More and more, Hermione found herself picking up Ginny whenever she made a comment against Draco or the Slytherins; it was clear after the first time that she corrected Ginny that Ginny wasn't even aware of what she was doing. Hermione remembered back to when she started S.P.E.W. to promote elfish rights, and Ron had kept making snide little comments which did nothing but reinforce the stereotypes that elves were below wizards. It had taken him three years to even begin to comprehend that this view – the view that he had been brought up with – was wrong. It was downright depressing to think that it might take just as long, if not longer, to make that sort of difference in Hogwarts…

"Um, Hermione?" Draco's voice interrupted the conversation that Hermione had been having with Ginny as they left the potions classroom on Wednesday afternoon.

"Oh, hi Draco." Hermione replied, noticing that Ginny had fallen suspiciously silent and was glaring at Draco. "Go on Ginny, I'll meet you at dinner." Hermione told her, knowing instantly that Draco wouldn't be able to talk at any great depth without Ginny judging him; Ginny flicked her hair over her shoulder and proceeded up the stairs to the entrance hall on her own. "Are you okay?" She asked him, once Ginny was outside of their earshot.

"Yeah," Draco answered, his eyes following Ginny's course up the steps. "I'm not interrupting something important, am I?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"No, you're not." She placated.

"I was just… I thought that maybe we should have a meeting about what's going on with the prefects?" He suggested; Hermione could feel her face breaking out into a smile.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea!" She nodded, "There's quite a lot of planning for the first events."

"Great," Draco said. "When would you be free?"

"How about Saturday afternoon?" She asked, Draco nodded. "After lunch?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." He agreed. "Thank you." By the time they had agreed this meeting the two of them had reached the entrance hall; almost instantly, Hermione witnessed Draco's face glazing over as they came near to other students. "Right, well – I'll see you then." He was suddenly distant, and Hermione wanted to say something to reassure him, but he had turned away so quickly that she hadn't been able to.

Ginny was sat at the dining table next to Neville, she pointed looked away and scowled while Hermione sat down next to Luna. Neville greeted Hermione with a nod as his mouth was full of food; there was a silence as Hermione pulled a dish of chicken casserole towards her and began to load some onto her plate.

"I don't know why you bother with him!" Ginny broke the silence, speaking sharply; Hermione sighed, she had expected something of the sort but hadn't looked forwards to another argument over Draco.

"Because he's no different from us," Hermione spoke lowly, not wanting to draw the attention of the students around them. "And he's Head Boy, so I have to work with him."

"But he _is _different from us!" Ginny exclaimed, slamming her fork down onto the table.

"I'm not having this conversation here." Hermione muttered and turned her attention back to her plate of food; there was only a second's pause before Ginny stood up from the table and stalked away, leaving her unfinished plate. Hermione played with her food – it was annoying, she didn't feel like she should be guilty about talking to Draco… she didn't _want _to feel guilty! After all, she had realised, after their conversation the Saturday before, that she really _didn't _hold any grudge against him – and she felt bad about the way the other students were treating him.

"Don't worry about Ginny." Neville said quietly, Hermione looked up at him and he smiled weakly. "It might take a while, but she'll come round."

"I hope so…" Hermione whispered, "It's difficult…"

"I know." He nodded appreciatively. "But I don't think you should let her get to you… Hermione, I know you wouldn't do anything unless you knew it was the right thing to do."

The right thing to do… Those words of Neville's kept ringing in Hermione's head; she knew that it _was _the right thing to do, and no matter what Ginny thought she wasn't going to change her mind…

Being in Ginny Weasley's bad books was surprisingly similar to being in Ron's bad books. Over the next two days Ginny was remarkably frosty towards Hermione; she acted perfectly normally towards Neville and Luna, but she barely uttered a word to Hermione. Hermione was frustrated by this behaviour, but she became resigned very quickly to the silence; in fact it only strengthened the reasons that Neville had given to her – that she wouldn't be so adamant about this unless she knew it was the right thing to do. Eventually the tension between herself and Ginny was bound to come to a head, Hermione wasn't looking forwards to when that happened, but unless she actively sought to end it she didn't know when it would happen.

Unhelpfully, it was Friday night as Neville, Ginny and herself were sitting in the Gryffindor common room working on their homework that the topic of Malfoy came up again.

"I mean we've got like fifteen pieces of homework this weekend…" Neville was saying, the light of worry in his eyes at the strain of how much they had to do. "I knew N.E. were going to be hard, but don't they realise we're taking other classes too! How are we supposed to do it all?" He flicked haphazardly through the charms textbook that was lying on the table in front of him.

"It's all about planning." Hermione said soothingly to Neville, who had begun scratching out a sentence in the essay he was writing. "If we do the homework due in for Monday, maybe some of Tuesdays too, tomorrow and Sunday then we'll be able to spread the load out."

"There's that horrible transfiguration essay due for Tuesday, I don't even understand the question!" He murmured, sighing.

"Well, if we plan it and research it tomorrow morning in the library, you can get it out of the way." Hermione offered, "I'm meeting Draco in the afternoon, but if it's planned out then you should be able to write it yourself." At these words Ginny, who had been sitting next to them reading a thick volume for potions and petting Arnold the Pygmy Puff absent mindedly with her free hand, snorted loudly.

Hermione sighed softly and looked across at the red-head: "What?"

"Meeting best buddy Malfoy for a cosy little chat." Ginny sneered, with an expression worthy of pre-War Draco. Hermione placed her quill down on the table in front of her and glanced across at Neville whose eyebrows were raised despite his attempts to look fully absorbed in his charms homework.

"Come on then…" Hermione muttered quietly.

"What?" Ginny spat harshly.

"Get it out – you don't like Malfoy, you don't trust him, you don't understand why I give him the time of day…"

"Well I don't!" Ginny interrupted loudly, "He's a _Malfoy! _And a Death Eater!"

"Was a death eater." Hermione said calmly.

"And you think he's _changed! _After everything he has said and done, he's a revolting piece of slime that should have been sent to Azkaban with his scumbag parents!" Ginny's voice had grown shriller, attracting the attention of some of the other students sitting around them.

"Stop it Ginny." Hermione replied, "You're acting the way that Draco did before the War, there's no point replacing old prejudices with new ones. That's what we were fighting against, that's what so many people died for… We've all made mistakes, but it's how we go forward that really shows who we are." For a second Ginny looked infuriated, her face flushed with anger.

"So _I'm _like Malfoy?!" She was practically shrieking now and half of the common room were staring at Ginny and Hermione. "If you think like that well why don't you go and smarm off with bloody Draco Malfoy, but don't come crawling back when he turns on you! Clearly _you _must think he's 'worth saving', but he's a snake and that won't change!" Ginny was gathering up the books that had been in front of her into her arms, she gave Hermione one last blazing look of mingled disgust and fury before flinging her hair over her shoulder and marching away; leaving Hermione sitting in the middle of the common room with nearly everyone watching her.

Hermione was so annoyed with Ginny that she avoided going to breakfast and went straight to the library with Neville to plan their transfiguration essay. While Neville had offered some placating words to Hermione the night before, he had refrained from mentioning the argument that had happened. Hermione guessed that he didn't want to burn any bridges, but his presence was enough to reassure her that her judgement wasn't incredibly off. She was conscious that many of the Gryffindors were discussing the argument between Hermione and Ginny – and, although it might just be paranoia, she felt that most of the students agreed with Ginny…

She hung around outside the doors to the Great Hall after lunch, waiting for Draco to appear for their meeting, and feeling immensely disgruntled at the entire situation.

"Hermione?" She jumped as Draco's voice came from behind her.

"Oh hi," Hermione said, feeling like she had been caught unawares.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked at her. For a fleeting moment Hermione thought it might have been concern showing across his face, then she reminded herself how silly that thought was.

"Yeah," She answered, "Shall we find an empty classroom?"

"Okay," Draco fell into step beside her as they wandered along one of the first floor corridors in search of an empty room. The second classroom that they found was deserted and Hermione closed the door behind her after they entered. Hermione was, again, conscious of Draco watching her as she unpacked her planning notebook and quill onto the table and opened it to the page that she had been at; she made a point not to look up at him.

"So the three committees have managed to plan most of the formulating details…" Hermione started, flicking between the pages concerning the ball committee and the concert committee. "The dates for all three events have been decided and approved by Professor McGonagall." She continued, staring resolutely at the pages. "The ball is going to be on the 19th of December; the concert on the 3rd of April; and the play on the 23rd June." Hermione could feel Draco's eyes watching her, and she felt she had been staring at her notebook long enough. She tentatively looked up, and was startled by the expression deep set in Draco's grey eyes – this time she couldn't be mistaken, there was definite concern in them now.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Draco repeated, as though he hadn't really been listening to the plans Hermione had been relaying to him.

"I-" Hermione spluttered, still surprised by the sincerity of his question. "Yeah, I just…" The argument that she had had with Ginny last night reverberating in her head. "Had an argument with someone and it's been preoccupying me."

"Oh… It didn't happen to be with Ginny Weasley did it?" He questioned after a moment's pause, it was Hermione's turn to stare.

"How did you know that?" She exclaimed quickly, he looked guilty.

"I overheard some people talking about it in the Great Hall…" He muttered, and Hermione wondered whether he knew the subject of the arguments too, and his next statement cleared that up. "I'm sorry…" She watched him for a few seconds as he looked down at the desk and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt.

"No." She stated firmly and he looked up. "_Don't _be sorry! I argued with Ginny because she is reinforcing old stereotypes!"

"But I don't want to ruin your friendship!" Draco's voice rose. "If that's the sort of thing that's going to happen if you talk to me, then…"

"It's not your problem." Hermione insisted, "And I don't want to stop talking to you." The last bit had come out before Hermione had realised, and she felt her cheeks going red as Draco looked at her.

"Thanks…" He murmured, looking slightly embarrassed himself.

"Right… Well…" She carried on, flicking through the pages of her notebook again in an attempt to not look embarrassed.

"Plans, yeah…" He agreed, but he wasn't focussing on her notebook full of what had already been planned; he was noticing how her cheeks dappled pink with embarrassment rather than flushing scarlet, and that despite her concentration on the plans, there was a small smile playing across her lips… And for some reason, that made his spirits rise.

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**A/N: Thanks so much for reading so far - and, as always, I'd be super grateful if you wanted to let me know what you think about this chapter/story so far! :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Trigger warning: In this chapter there's some graphic reference to self-harm/cutting, so please keep yourself safe while reading. **

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Draco was confused… Initially he hadn't even considered any consequences arising from him talking to Hermione, but now he knew of at least one argument that had occurred specifically because she was speaking to him, he felt torn. On the one hand Hermione was the _only _person who had spoken to him since he arrived back at school and he didn't really want to lose that one point of human contact, but on the other hand Hermione was suffering because of him. He had made mistakes and ruined lives already, he had proved that that was all he was worth, and he didn't want to perpetuate any problems between Hermione and her friends. Otherwise that would just be adding to the list of mistakes he had already racked up… Hermione's insistence that he wasn't to worry about the situation didn't do too much to ease his turmoil. After their meeting on Saturday afternoon Draco spent the rest of the evening pondering; a familiar heavy weight had settled inside of him again. Ever since the night that Hermione had rescued him from the sodden grounds he had avoided the nearly full bottle of firewhisky that was packed underneath some of his robes in his trunk, but tonight he was sorely tempted if it would mean he could get a decent night's sleep. He remained in the Slytherin common room, knowing that if he went down to his dormitory while it was still empty he would definitely succumb to his temptation; he stayed until nearly midnight when there were only a few younger students left in the common room, before he decided it was time to go to bed.

But he lay in his bed staring at the canopy of his four poster bed for a long time, surrounded by the snores of his fellow dorm mates and acutely aware of the niggling sensation in his chest. After what felt like hours lying awake, he sat up and very quickly slid open the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. The small drawstring bag lay on top of folded clothes and he picked it up carefully, hearing the clink of metal from inside it. Perhaps this was replacing the alcohol; perhaps this would give him the relief that the amber liquid had done; perhaps this might remove the horrible weight inside him. He pulled open the top of the bad and tipped it upside down, the blades from within fell onto his left palm. For a little while he simply stared at them, the small amounts of moonlight that managed to force its way in through the heavy curtains of his bed glinting on the silver of the blade. Closing his hand on them, he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm – he was possibly the only person who repeatedly wore long sleeves to bed – and examined. His last attempts at removing the offensive mark branded into his skin had healed, leaving a multitude of raised white marks enumerating not only his last attempt but his ones before that too. The sight of the dark mark raised all the thoughts that he wished he could block out – and his confusion over Hermione was paramount within them. Could he really isolate himself completely once more? After all the kindness that she had shown him? After her keeping his drinking secret; after her defending him to the other students – to her friends? Wouldn't him choosing to forgo any further interaction between them prove all those people right; and only damage further the courtesy and generosity that she had extended to him? Oh… he didn't know… Every eventuality seemed to bring fresh problems with it, and that made the whole thing worse. Hoping for some relief, or some clarity, he selected one of the blades that he had been holding onto and held it between his fingers, poised. The action was automatic – indicative of how many times he had done it before – he lowered the blade and drew it across his skin. He felt no pain, rather a dull numb sensation as though that patch of skin had been treated with lidocaine. He repeated the action, again and again until he lost count of how many times, across the section of skin that also bore the Dark Mark; wondering whether he could merely obliterate the mark by overlaying scars. Blood was springing out from the cuts, pooling at first at the corners before running down the side of his arm. He mopped at the blood with his other sleeve, it looked very red against the white of his skin. He sat for a considerable period, watching the blood flow, it took a very long time for the cuts to stop bleeding – and when they did he didn't dare to count how many there were. Dark red clots were covering the fresh incisions, dried blood smeared in between them. He knew he should really change the top that he was currently wearing, the right sleeve was damp from the amount of blood that he had soaked up using it; but he was exhausted… He replaced the blades back into the bag and laid it in the top drawer of his cabinet. He closed it quietly, lay back down onto his bed, and succumbed to sleep.

This was unfounded territory for Hermione; she had now encountered several situations in which she felt, not only at ease but, enjoyment with Draco Malfoy. At first she had primarily been acting out of obligation because of Professor McGonagall's request, but that had changed. She couldn't be sure exactly when that change, from requirement to voluntary involvement, had happened – it had seemed so incremental that she hadn't even noticed. Perhaps it had been during that evening in the Room of Requirement when she had helped him recover, and when he had vocalised just how isolated he really was. But it could easily have been since then also… Now that she had spent a little bit more time talking to him, her previously held opinions about him had shifted. He had always acted tough, acted like the hard man; but she could see from his eyes how false that portrayal of himself was. His eyes held no malice, they were not filled with anger or hatred; they were empty and young – like those of a very young child, cause essentially that was what he was. He had never experienced the safe space to explore and identify who he was and what he believed in without the threat of retribution and recrimination - and arriving at adulthood without having been able to do those things could cause issues. Draco had never had the opportunities afforded to the other teenagers because of his parents – and even while he had been at Hogwarts there had always been eyes watching him, ready to report back any misdeed or sympathies that might have been conflicting with what he was meant to be. Perhaps if things had been different Draco might have had the opportunity to break away from his parents and make his own mind up about himself, but circumstances had prevented that. The rise of Voldemort and his parents pledged allegiance had drawn him in without the possibility or opportunity for him to protest. Perhaps Draco would have been a very different person if the Dark Lord had not come to power; but then, the same might be said for her. She had developed through a time of immense oppression, she had persevered, become determined with those causes passionate to herself, and made the choice to stand up and fight. But she couldn't imagine what might have happened if she hadn't had the support of both her parents, and Ron and Harry… She had grown to be adjusted, understanding and comprehending of the world around her; Draco hadn't. And his approach into adulthood, his return to Hogwarts and his silence, his isolation and his drinking were all signs that there were issues going on with him – but it was up to him whether he wanted to deal with them.

The War had been responsible for lots of casualties, but perhaps it had been kinder on those who had been fighting against Voldemort. They had been suffering for the sake of the greater good, against oppression, and against tyranny; their injuries and sufferings had seemed justifiable, and in the long run they would be more easily understood. Draco's wounds, although perhaps not physical and visible, were just as real as those who had the marks as proof of warfare. It's difficult to see a wound if its situation is not a cut upon the body or a broken bone, but that does not mean that it is not real. If a wound is located in the mind, it can be just as dehabilitating as if an entire limb has been removed; and it is worse because no one can see it. If you can't see the wound then how do you know that person is injured? And if you don't know that they're injured, how are you supposed to help and support them back to health?

But Hermione knew that there were wounds inside Draco's mind, she knew because she had seen them – and she wanted to help, she wanted to support Draco so he could heal… However with enmity and hatred pouring in at him from, it seemed, everyone – that was a more difficult task than it should have been…

November began with a flurry of excitement from the rest of the students within Hogwarts; the committee in charge of planning the Christmas ball had finally confirmed all of their plans with Professor McGonagall and received the green light to start advertising it – with the specific request that their advertising should promote that it was an inter-house event. So they had created a poster with all the details on it, and all of the prefects had received several each, with the instruction that they should be put up in as many locations as possible for November the first. So on the morning of the first, the attention of all the students was drawn to the large posters which had been hung up in their common rooms emblazoned with the words: '_Hogwarts inter-house Christmas Ball!' _. Hermione admired the one upon the Gryffindor notice board with some pride; although she was only overseeing all of the committees she still felt, in part, responsible for the work they were doing – and consequently she was proud when she saw it was being done well. The posters that the group had come up with had the lion, the eagle, the badger and the snake all positioned around a giant decorated Christmas tree; and they had managed to perform a charm on the words so that each individual letter flashed blue, green, red and yellow in turn. They had obviously put quite a lot of effort into the poster – and it was paying off! As Hermione stood at the other side of the common room she could hear the excited conversations of the other students; the chatter in the Great Hall seemed louder too. While she was sitting eating her breakfast she heard nothing but positive comments – there was a group of third year girls sitting just along from her who were discussing what colour and style of dress each of them was going to wear. Even the boys didn't seem to be too disheartened by the fact that it was a ball; perhaps it was the inclusion on the poster of a sentence that read: _'Pluck up the courage to ask a partner or come with a group of friends.'_. Hermione had suggested that the emphasis shouldn't be placed entirely on the boys, as often that just made them embarrassed – she remembered only too well how embarrassed Ron and Harry had been when they had to ask girls to the Yule Ball. The two of them had acted like ten year olds when it came to asking a girl to go to the ball with them – perhaps it had been because they were only in fourth year and both inexperienced with talking to any girl besides Hermione. Whether it was due to the 'come with friends' clause that they had included this time, or not, everyone seemed to be so much more open and welcoming to the idea of a Christmas Ball. Hermione only wished that they could be as open and welcoming to everything and everyone… but that didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon…

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**A/N: I hope you've been enjoying the story, I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story so far! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Draco had only ever mined the depths of the library once before; only once he had spent hour upon hour – days even – trawling through every book he could find. That time had not been in the best circumstance either – initially he had been trying to find a method of fulfilling the task that the Dark Lord had set him. He knew, if it came to it, that there was the killing curse – but he would have to be in quite close proximity to his target, and with no possible chance of misfire or anyone else getting in the way – if there was any way he could carry out his assigned task without resorting to that, he was willing to give it a try. That was why he had begun his search in the library – and where the concept of the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead had come from. And when neither of them worked, his search within the library had intensified, but it shifted to trying to find a way to get his mother out of the unbreakable vow that she had made with Snape. It had been during that time in his sixth year that he realised how big the Hogwarts library was; and how lonely you could feel when you were in it. Now he was rediscovering the depths of the library, not for any specific reason, but because the library was quiet and private. You could lose yourself in the rows of hundreds of books covering every possible combination of topics and subjects; in here there weren't other students whispering about him – or if they were, Madam Pince silenced them pretty sharpish; in here he could hide. He decided that the time he was spending in the library reading and researching could only be positive for the homework that he had – a little bit of background knowledge could only be a good thing! Before the War, Draco had an idea about what he wanted to do when he left Hogwarts and the War had only confirmed his decision that he was going to do all he could to get into the Healer training programme and qualify as a healer – and that meant getting the best grades it was possible to get in his N.E. . Draco wasn't unintelligent, he had gotten O's in all of his O. apart from Defence against the Dark Arts… That hadn't really been a priority for him at the time – but even then he had only gotten an E. His father had been furious when he received those results; he remembered the way Lucius had made a crumpled line in his parchment as he looked at Draco's results. The happiness that had expanded inside him when he had seen how well he had passed had disappeared as Lucius had very clearly informed him that it wasn't acceptable. He hadn't even tried that hard with his O. ; he hadn't thought it was actually that important, but his attitude towards his upcoming exams was very different now. So he had taken refuge in the library – he was now spending nearly all of the time that he wasn't in class in the depths of the library; he was there during his lunchtimes and most evenings, which meant that he could avoid the Slytherin common room and the rest of the students.

That was where he was, hunched over in one of the little booths surrounded by several piles of books that he had fished out from their shelves, on a Thursday evening in early November. A bell rung from somewhere behind Draco, he checked the time and saw that it was quarter to eight, and the bell was signifying that the library would be closing in the next fifteen minutes. Slowly Draco closed the books that he had been using and began to place the ones he didn't need back onto their shelves; he could hear movement from in the other rows behind him, all of the other students in the library were clearly packing up and leaving. Draco rolled up the scroll of parchment that he had been writing on and slipped it into his bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He piled the rest of the books that he wanted to check out into his arms and proceeded out of the dark row that he had been hiding in and up to Madam Pince's desk. He stood for a few seconds waiting, she had her back facing him so he made a noise with the pile of books so that she would turn around; it worked, as any small noise was picked up by her super sensitive hearing, her hear whipped round to where Draco was standing.

"Yes?" She asked quickly, her voice was hushed – probably from years of spending most of her time in the library,

"Can I take these books out please?" Draco asked, indicating the pile of books that he had placed on the desk in front of him; she glared suspiciously at him for a few seconds before picking up her quill and flicking open a notebook in which she would write the titles of the books he was taking out.

"Name?" She said tersely, writing out the first title and placing it back down in front of him.

"Draco… uh, Malfoy." He trailed off when he got to his surname.

"What was that?" She repeated, not even batting an eyelid.

"Malfoy." He spoke through gritted teeth, wishing that the old bat would stop staring at him like that, he knew there were still other students in the library, and parading his surname wasn't something he was proud of – he glanced around, but couldn't see any lurking students.

"These must be back by Tuesday." She said sternly, placing the last book upon his pile; he nodded and gathered them into his arms once more. He made his way out into the torch lit corridor and headed towards the staircase that would take him back down to his common room. He hadn't taken more than ten steps when a voice called out from behind him:

"Malfoy!" It was a rough male voice, not issuing from anyone that Draco could recognise just by their voice, so he didn't turn round to face its owner. He kept walking, hoisting the books more securely into his arms. "Oi! Hey, I'm talking to you!" The voice called, and again Draco ignored it and kept walking along the corridor; he could hear footsteps coming from behind him.

"The scum clearly can't hear you." Another voice joined in, jeering; Draco took a breath, his heart began pounding in his chest, and he quickened his pace slightly to get away from the voices that were still calling after him. Without any warning, something hard hit Draco in the square of the back and he stumbled, several of the books in his arms coming close and tumbling down onto the floor. He glanced backwards as he knelt down to pick up the fallen books and saw a group of five boys approaching him quickly; one of them had his wand out and it was pointing at Draco, it must have been him that sent the spell.

"We know you can hear us, scum!" One of the boys spat at Draco, who was still trying to secure the books in his arms as the boys came within reaching distance. Abandoning the use of the wand in his hand, the boy's foot swung out and connected with Draco's shoulder and sending him, and the books he was holding, flying across the floor. Draco's heart was thumping so loudly that he could hear it in his eardrums; he tried to push himself up, still not allowing himself to look at the group of boys who were standing incredibly close to him.

"Are you fucking deaf? We're talking to you!" Draco could hear his breathing ragged as he tried to regain his balance. "Petrificus totalus!" Draco was hit, again, from behind and he felt his limbs snapping together causing him to fall forwards onto his face. "Not so cocky now, are you?" The boy who had hit him with the body bind curse hooked his foot under Draco's shoulder and turned him over onto his back immobile; Draco stared up into the face of the assailants. The two boys that had called after Draco were sneering down at him, disgust wrought across their faces.

"You shouldn't have come back to school, Malfoy." The emphasis and the audible hatred in the boy's voice made Draco want to close his eyes, but he couldn't. "You should have known that you wouldn't have been welcome here, fucking Death Eater scum!" Pain shot through Draco's ribs as someone's foot kicked into him, and it was that kick that opened the floodgates. Draco couldn't even cover his face, protect his hands or even close his eyes – he had to watch as the soles of the boys shoes came down onto his face, smashed into his chest and legs. He might not be able to move, but he could feel the pain shooting from every blow; inside his head he was screaming out – he just wanted them to stop.

"This – is for – my cousin – and my – friends!" The boy standing directly above Draco articulated between kicks. "They – would have – been – alive if – it wasn't – for you – _fucking _Death Eaters!" This final exclamation was succeeded by the hardest blow that he had yet received; Draco felt something in his chest crack. Draco could understand the boy's fury, he had been a Death Eater – the amount of destruction that had been the result of the side that he had been on; but as he lay there, pain irradiating throughout his whole body, he wished he had his wand in his hand so he could curse them into oblivion. There was a second where Draco thought they were going to stop; the stabbing pains that ran through his chest and abdomen every time he took a breath were at such a peak that he felt sure he was about to pass out. He could hear the boys yelling, but couldn't disentangle one voice from another – let alone comprehend words – it was all just noise, and pain. Suddenly the boy nearest Draco's head brought his foot down forcibly onto Draco's face – reminding Draco of when he had done the same action to Harry Potter several years previous – but this time it was him that was on the receiving end. He felt his nose break, and almost instantly he could feel a gush of warm liquid pouring down the sides of his face. The sensation was enough to turn his stomach, and a black spot began to creep in at the corners of his vision. The last thing he saw was the heads of all the boys turning towards the corridor before everything went black.

"Draco?" A hand was on his wrist, gripping it tight as he regained consciousness. Before he had even opened his eyes an explosion of pain had torn through his entire body; he could hear his breath rattling in his chest, and feel the blood still flowing from his nose, however his limbs seemed to have unfrozen. He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling the woozy sensation swimming around his head; the scared white face of Hermione came into focus, she was peering down into his face, and evidently it was her who was clutching his wrist. "Oh God," Hermione's grip on Draco's wrist was so tight that it was almost vice-like. "Draco? Can you hear me?" Opening his eyes wide he could see a row of boys, the boys that the last time he had his eyes open had been attacking him, were stood with their backs to the corridor wall. Draco began to push himself upright into a sitting position, but the pain that spread through him caused him to gasp. His ribs felt like they had been sheared apart with a separator and as he became upright the blood from his nose began to drip down his face and into his lap. "Oh Christ you're a mess…" Hermione whispered, her eyes widening as she surveyed him, letting go of his wrist so he could stem the flow from his nose.

"I'm alright." Draco's voice came out only in a whisper.

"Like hell you are!" Hermione refuted, she was breathing hard as though enraged. "Don't move, please." She got to her feet rapidly, stepping around where Draco was sat on the ground; she stood in front of the first of the boys, she wasn't as tall as them but her presence somehow seemed bigger. "Now don't even try to defend yourself, it's not going to fly with me! What are your names and houses?"

"Iain Griffiths, Hufflepuff." The first boy answered, he seemed to be inwardly wrestling with resentment.

"Scott Chalmers, Hufflepuff." The second boy, who was staring at his feet, said.

"Dennis, I'm surprised at you – is this what you think it's right to do after Colin fought against this? I can't imagine that he'd be proud of you if he could see what you've done." The blond boy shook his head timidly, but didn't speak.

"Paul Holt, Ravenclaw." The fourth boy had his arms crossed over his chest and was looking defiant.

"Nathan Sinclair, Ravenclaw." The last boy said.

"We're going to see your heads of houses right now!" Hermione demanded; she turned her back upon them swiftly to face Draco once more, she knelt down beside him. "Do you think you're able to stand up, or do you need a hand?" She offered her hand out; Draco paused for a second before taking her hands. As she helped him upright the areas of his body which had been struck during the attack became painfully aware; the pain in his ribs was the most profound over anything else. "Follow me." She barked over her shoulder at the boys still lined up at the wall; they moved rather reluctantly, following behind Draco and Hermione.

"Oh Draco, are you in a lot of pain?" She asked her voice low to avoid the boys behind hearing her. Draco shook his head quickly, but at the same time his ribs gave a painful twinge.

"Please, I just want to go back to my dormitory." He pleaded.

"You need to get checked over and cleaned up first." She exclaimed; Draco knew that he must look in an awful state, but he didn't want to have to go to the hospital wing, he didn't want Madam Pomfrey to check him over. "I'm not letting you go back to your dormitory without speaking to the heads of houses."

"Which one?" Draco felt his heart thumping in his throat, and he wasn't sure whether that was from the thought of facing the heads of houses or from the aftermath of the attack.

"All of them if necessary, Professor McGonagall at the least…" Hermione stopped before the entrance to the headmistress' office, she helped Draco onto the moving staircase and when it reached the door with the brass griffin knocker, she reached out, knocked and waited.

"Come in?" Professor McGonagall's voice rung out from behind the door; Hermione turned to the boys and instructed:

"Wait here." She opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry to bother you Professor McGonagall, I've just come across a situation and I needed to bring it to your, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick's attention." Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk in the middle of her office and she had looked up to see Hermione enter.

"What situation?" She asked; as an answer, Hermione, opened the door and beckoned Draco inside. The reaction of Professor McGonagall was abrupt; she rose and swept around the edge of her desk. "What happened?" She asked with a resounding urgency, looking Draco up and down, instantly she led him forwards and made him sit down in one of her chairs; she looked from Draco – beaten up, bruised and still bleeding – to Hermione.

"I found – I caught a group of boys in the library corridor, and they were – they…" Hermione struggled to say what they had been doing to Draco; there was a lump in her throat as she looked at Draco – who was staring at the floor.

"Do you know who the boys were?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Yes." Hermione answered quickly. "They're outside."

"Outside?" She replied, glancing to the door of her office.

"I caught them, while they were in the act, so I brought them along…" Hermione explained, "I didn't know what else to do with them – I didn't want to take them to each of their heads of houses individually and have to explain several times."

"Right, thank you Miss. Granger." Professor McGonagall nodded, "Can you tell me what happened Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, looking back down at Draco – who was holding one hand to his ribcage, his pale face now as white as chalk and he was visibly trembling.

"I was just coming out of the library, and…" Draco's voice was weak – the audible waver in his voice matched the way he was shaking. "I don't know, I just want to go back to my dormitory – please." The blood that was drying on his face made it look like he had been slashed across the face with a knife and his nose appeared broken.

"Goodness gracious no!" Professor McGonagall had turned towards her fire place. "Once Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick have seen you, Miss. Granger will help you to the hospital wing." From a box upon the mantelpiece she took some floo powder which she threw into the fire and spoke into the flames: "Filius, Pomona, I need to speak to you." Only a few seconds passed before a figure began to appear in the fireplace, and Professor Flitwick stepped out over the grate, followed by Professor Sprout. "Miss. Granger has just brought Mr. Malfoy after catching a group of students from our houses who have, well…" Professor McGonagall waved her hand to indicate Draco sitting on the chair in the middle of the office.

"Good Lord," Professor Sprout exclaimed at the sight of Draco.

"Miss. Granger has escorted the boys to us so we can deal with them." Professor McGonagall responded; Draco had sunk his head into one of his hands, the other hand was wrapped across his chest supporting his painful ribcage. "Miss. Granger, could you help Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing?"

"Yes, of course!" Hermione agreed.

"Could you also send the group of boys in on your way out?" Professor McGonagall asked; Draco was pushing himself up from the chair he was in, grimacing in pain. Hermione opened the door, the group of boys had congregated in a huddle, but they scuttled apart as the door opened.

"Inside please." She spoke to them, and they filtered past her, pointedly not looking at Draco as they passed. Hermione closed the door behind Draco, and stood for a few seconds looking at Draco who was looking at the floor. "Come on Draco," She reached out one hand and gently took hold of his elbow, aware that he was in a great deal of pain and not wanting to add to that. Hermione led him down the stairs, but when they reached the corridor at the bottom of the staircase Draco stopped abruptly.

"I'm not going to the hospital wing." He stated shortly. "I don't want to, I'm not."

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**A/N: Thank you so much for reading so far, I hope you're enjoying this - and I'd love to know what you think about this chapter/story! :) **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Just a small warning, there is reference to self-harm in this chapter - please keep yourself safe. **

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Hermione was fraught with frustration and worry: "Draco, you need to get cleaned up and checked over." Hermione sighed. "You're really beaten up, your nose looks broken – and it looks like you've damaged your ribs."

"I won't go." Draco repeated, Hermione stared rather forlornly at him; there was a bloody bruise rising above his left eye.

"You can't just go back to your dorm like this; I'm not going to let you." Hermione argued. "Either you go to the hospital wing and get checked over by Madam Pomfrey, or you let me sort your nose out." She crossed her arms across her chest and fixed her face in a more determined manner, not willing to back down; for a few seconds it looked as though Draco was about to argue, then he seemed to deflate.

"Fine." He murmured, "You fix it then." Hermione blinked, she hadn't actually expected him to say that.

"Right, well… I… uh…" She floundered at what to do next. "Well I'll need to… The Room of Requirement, you can get cleaned up there; come on." Draco walked beside her rather gingerly, indicating most likely that his ribs were broken. The headmistress' office being located on the seventh floor meant that their trip to the Room of Requirement was only through three corridors.

When the doors of the Room of Requirement opened; it had done its job well – it presented itself as a rather spacey room with white walls and white lights shining down, a basin and several rows of cloths and bandages laid out in several rows on a table. Draco had gratefully sunk onto the edge of a chair that was next to the basin, he groaned as he did so, his hand returning to his side; Hermione frowned as she watched him, once again feeling like she had possibly made a mistake by allowing Draco to come with her rather than go to the person he really should go to – Madam Pomfrey.

"Be honest Draco," Hermione said to him, "How much pain are you in?" Draco paused, initially looking as though he was about to lie, but he appeared to change his mind, while under the gaze of Hermione. He had half opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, and then murmured:

"A lot." He hadn't moved his position but he looked down at the floor once more.

"Oh god Draco – you really should go to the hospital wing…" Hermione reinforced, "I can fix your nose, but I don't know if I can do anything for your ribs, or give you anything for your pain…"

"I can sort my ribs." Draco insisted, "And I'm pretty sure that there'll be something for pain in there." He pointed to a set of cupboards on the other side of the room from him; with the indication, Hermione opened the cupboard to find several bottles, including skele-gro and several potions to numb or deaden pain.

"Do you want this now?" She asked, selecting one of the bottles and holding it out towards Draco. He accepted the bottle from her, uncorked the bottle, but instead of measuring out an amount he simply took a drink straight from the bottle.

"Thanks," He responded, placing the bottle down once more. "If you give it a moment then you can fix my nose."

"What happened Draco?" Hermione asked, as Draco had leant back in his chair and closed his eyes; Hermione could see his chest rising and falling rather shallowly. "Did they just jump on you or something?"

"Pretty much… Urgh…" He answered; he had shifted in his chair and made a face at the same time, "I was coming out of the library and then they were behind me, I don't even know…" Hermione had just noted the presence of the book _'A Guide to Healing Minor Injuries' _lying upon one of the counters, she picked it up and flicked through the pages. "Do you want to fix my nose now?" Draco asked.

"If you want me to." Hermione responded, laying the book down on one of the counters, open on a page to lessen bruising.

"Go on," He kept his eyes closed as Hermione took out her wand and focussed it into his face.

"It might sting a bit, just to warn you." She said.

"I know." He nodded slightly; Hermione looked at him, covered in blood and waiting patiently for her to fix his nose.

"Episky!" There was a bone crunching crack, and Draco's eyes had snapped back open as his nose began to bleed all over again.

"Oh God," Draco stemmed the new flow of blood with the cuff of his sleeve. "Well at least it's not broken now." His skin was slightly tinged with a grey colour, possibly as a result of his body going into shock; Hermione grabbed some tissues and passed them across to him, preventing him from needing to use his sleeve – which fresh red blood was blossoming up.

"I can try and sort that bruise above your eye if you'd like." She offered, watching him mop at the blood that had dripped down onto his lap.

"Why not – give it a go." He suggested, he didn't seem to really mind; holding the book in one hand and her wand in the other, she read the small section about getting rid of bruises. Once she was done, the lump had gone down above his eye, even though there was still a little bit of blue colour, it looked much better now. Looking down at the blood smeared face, she felt a pang inside her chest, Draco was in such a state, but he didn't even seem to care…

"Shall I clean up your face?" She offered, Draco shrugged in response. Hermione picked up one of the cloths from the counter and dampened it in the basin. "Will you tell me if I hurt you?"

"I will." He muttered; very gently Hermione put one of her hands underneath his chin and began to wipe away all the blood that had dried on his face. She worked in silence for a few moments; Draco was just watching her – closing his eyes shortly thereafter, as she tried to clean the blood from his cheeks and the areas around his eyes.

"How are you not angry about what has happened?" She asked after quite a period of silence; she couldn't help but ask him – she was fuming about the whole situation, about catching those boys really laying into Draco, she couldn't understand how he could be sitting there so calmly, and not be angry or upset about it.

"What do I have to be upset about?" Draco replied, sounding momentarily confused.

"About them beating you up!" She exclaimed, stopping wiping his face. "Why aren't you angry with them?"

"I kind of deserved it though…" He said quietly.

"How?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "You didn't provoke them, or do anything to them – so how did you deserve it?!"

"I'm a Malfoy. I was a Death Eater. I deserve everything I get." He responded very quietly.

"No!" Hermione almost stamped her foot in exasperation. "How many times do I need to say this?! The War is over! It is _not _right for us to continue holding these prejudices – and anyone who continues to act upon them needs to be corrected. _None _of us are perfectly without fault in this situation, but that doesn't mean what they did was justified or that you deserved it!"

"Mmm…" Draco didn't appear to agree; Hermione's fingers were trembling as she held the cloth she was using to clean his face, she had to take a few seconds to try and calm herself down before she continued to dip the cloth back into the water. She had just begun to wipe the blood away from around his nose when he looked up, directly into her eyes. "Why are _you_ so angry about this?" He questioned.

"Because you don't deserve this! This is wrong!" She answered, "I am so angry that those boys felt the need and believed they had the right to retribution; I'm annoyed that people can't seem to understand – after being explicitly and repeatedly told that these kinds of prejudices will not be tolerated! I'm also angry on your behalf! Look at the state they left you in! I can't believe their brazenness!"

"You don't need to be angry on my behalf." He said slowly, "I'm not angry, I've done wrong and they've done wrong – none of us are in the right!"

"I – but…" Hermione struggled again, looking down into Draco's face. "I feel your pain though, and you shouldn't be forced into feeling it." Draco shrugged slightly, wincing again at the pain in his chest, and resumed staring at his lap all over again. Hermione was not sure what else she could say to make or insight Draco to respond to what had happened, so she said nothing and continued to clean the very last of the blood from his face. Finishing cleaning his face, she knelt down and took hold of his hands, beginning to wipe them down; during this time he leant his head back on the wall – she could see his ribcage rising only a small amount when he breathed and there was a subtle wheeze when he inhaled. She redampened the cloth and cleaned off the back of his hands before turning them over so she could access his palms. Hermione wondered – because of the silence whether Draco had fallen asleep – and how he was possibly able to do so after all that had happened. His hands were cold, his fingers felt more like blocks of ice rather than appendages attached onto the rest of his body; she was working very slowly, taking great care and time to be gentle and not cause him any more pain. Draco's breathing had slowed down, still slightly wheezy, but deeper; his left hand, which was the one he had been predominantly using to stop the bleeding, was covered in a layer of dark blood extending up the palm of his hand and run up his wrist. There seemed to be rather a lot of blood around his wrist, more than Hermione would have expected. Carefully and gently, Hermione began to unbutton the cuff of his sleeve so as to access his wrist without much fiddling in and around the sleeve, cleaning his skin as she progressed. As she rolled up his sleeve just passed the wrist, near his forearm and put the cloth to this section of skin, Draco's eyes very suddenly snapped open and he pulled his arm away very forcibly, exclaiming:

"What the hell are you doing?!" Hermione's hand, which was still holding the cloth she had been using to clean his hands with, was still outstretched.

"I was cleaning the blood from your hands." She replied, feeling slightly confused about this reaction from him. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Draco was holding onto his left arm very protectively, his eyes wide and staring at her.

"Did they hurt your arm during the attack?" She inquired even further because of the protective nature in which he was clenching his arm.

"No!" He responded firmly once again.

"Okay." She withdrew the hand that she had been using, but stayed kneeling for a few seconds before standing up and dropping the cloth back into the basin. "I'm sorry." There was a rather awkward silence between the two of them; as Draco remained with his left arm held close to his chest. "Do you need any help with fixing your ribs?" She asked, trying to divert from the awkwardness of the moment.

"I think I'll be alright; the painkillers have kicked in now so I'll sort them out later." Draco answered, he moved to roll down the sleeve of his shirt, and in so doing Hermione got an unimpeded view of his arm. There were several red cuts visible against the very pale skin of his inner forearm.

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, he jumped very suddenly as she did so. "What have you done?" Draco roughly tugged his sleeve down over his arm, covering up those marks that Hermione had noticed; he looked very much like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Nothing!" He replied far too quickly for Hermione to be comfortable with; she had taken two steps towards Draco again – without any prior warning she reached out and grabbed Draco's arm and pulled it out. She could hear Draco's short, sharp breathing as she was holding his wrist, and he shook his head shortly. "Don't…" He begged, his eyes wide. "Please…" Hermione looked into Draco's face, fearful – terrified even; then took hold of the cuff of Draco's sleeve and rolled it back to his elbow. As she did this, she uncovered the forearm which had previously been so darkly branded with the Dark Mark. Draco had clamped his eyes so tightly shut, screwing up his face in the process. His left forearm was littered with at least fifty or sixty straight incisions – ranging from deep to shallow, long and short, lengthways and vertical – but all predominantly covering the area over where the Dark Mark was. There were further marks also: raised marks, whiter than the normal paleness of his skin; dark brown lines where old cuts were healing; incisions that were remarkably fresh. They enumerated his arm: cicatrices over cicatrices, and clearly displaying his brokenness.

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**A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long to update this - I'm working full time at the moment and I haven't had much time to write, but I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far! :) **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So huge, _huge _apologies for taking so long to update! I've been totally flat out at work and writers block is plaguing me... I only hope that the length of this chapter can maybe make up for it a bit! (And my creative juices have begun to flow again it seems!)  
**** Again, just as a warning, there are references to self-harm/depression in this chapter. Please keep yourself safe while reading, and if you've any questions, don't hesitate to send me a wee message!**

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The silence was profound. Draco was looking in abject horror; he had begun to tremble again, the hand that Hermione had clasped around his wrist could feel him trembling. She didn't know what to say; she didn't know how to react – considering that she was staring down at an arm which was covered in cuts, and knowing that they were not there accidentally. Draco's face had changed from horror to fear, he tried – in vain – to pull his arm away from Hermione's grip but she held on tightly, not willing to let him remove his arm.

"Draco, what are these?" She repeated, her voice hushed; her heart was beating incredibly rapidly within her chest as the enormity of what she was looking at hit her. "Draco?" Hermione repeated when he didn't answer, she was looking from his face to his arm. "How did you get these?" Again this question was met with silence; she gave his wrist a little squeeze to try and instigate a response from him. However the reaction she received was not the one she expected; as she looked up from his arm, she saw his eyes had filled with tears.

"I did it…" He whispered, Hermione's grip on his wrist had loosened and without warning Draco had wrenched his arm free and held it to his chest protectively.

Whilst she had kind of expected that was the instance, she was totally unprepared for what he was actually saying to her. He was admitting to be the one who had caused those cuts to himself, and Hermione was terrified – this was way too much for her to be dealing with. Right now, with a damaged Draco in front of her, she should really be concerned about him, but the only thing that she could think about was that she didn't know what to do or say now. So she stood, staring at Draco and trying to get her brain into gear – what was she supposed to say to him? Should she be going right now to get Madam Pomfrey or his head of house, someone – anyone – who was better qualified to deal with this situation? Questions, possibilities, implications were reeling through her mind, and Draco just sat there, looking utterly miserable. She took a few steps backwards and leant on one of the counters, and trying to desperately figure out what to do. First it had been the drinking, and when she had found out the reasoning behind that she had sort of understood – his loneliness, his isolation from the rest of the students, and she had tried to counter that by reaching out to him, by being a friend… But now this – what he was doing, cutting himself? Was that for the same reasons, or was it deeper? Did he really need proper help – more than what he was letting on? She didn't know what she should do – her heart was hammering in her chest; but she couldn't avoid the situation forever, she couldn't just leave – she needed to sort this out, find out what this was and why he was doing it, and then establish how and what to do next. When she opened her eyes, Draco was leaning forwards in his seat with his head in his hands, and once more Hermione felt a wave of pity for him wash over her. It wasn't for a few seconds that she realised that he was crying – and not just a few tears, really crying; tears were streaming down his face and dripping into his lap. It was heart wrenching to see, all of his inhibitions, all his Malfoy pride put to one side; and in that instance, she acted on instinct. She walked over to him, put her hand round his wrist, pulled him gently to his feet and embraced him. For a few moments he just stood limply, but then he wrapped his arms around her waist. Conscious that his ribs were still damaged Hermione didn't hold onto him too tightly, but it was the reverse for him. He clung on to her like he was drowning and she was his only life raft, burying his head into her shoulder. Hermione wondered when the last time he had actually been hugged, perhaps before his parents had been taken away… She could feel his back shaking from his efforts to try and stop crying and she held him tighter.

After a considerable period of her just holding on to him he appeared to regain some control of himself, pulling back from Hermione and using his sleeve to wipe his face.

"I'm sorry." He muttered rather gruffly, hiccupping slightly.

"What are you sorry for?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Because – I didn't want you to see that, I didn't want anyone to know…" He responded, grasping his right hand around his left forearm. "I don't want you to think less of me…" He sat down rather heavily in the chair that he had been using and stared at the floor. The contrast between the redness of his eyes and the usual paleness of his face seemed even more pronounced under the white lights of the room.

"Give me a second," She said, grabbing one of the chairs and dragging it across, placing it in front of Draco's chair and sitting down. She bent low in the seat, trying to be able to look Draco in the eye, but Draco didn't seem to want to look at her. "I don't think any less of you Draco." She said kindly. "I just… I don't understand. I need you to explain to me." This appeared to confuse Draco as he looked up, his eyebrow furrowed.

"To explain…?" He repeated nonplussed.

"Yeah," She nodded. "Why… I mean… oh I don't know, I'm not sure…" She sighed, "I just want to know _why?" _

"Explain?" He questioned, still looking confused. "I don't think I can explain…" He said honestly, "I wouldn't know where to begin…" He was fiddling with his fingers, interlocking them and then pulling them apart, perhaps out of discomfort.

"Well, how long have you been…?" Hermione paused, she didn't know what to call it, was 'cutting' too insensitive? Or 'hurting yourself' avoiding the subject too much? She didn't want to upset him even more, she cleared her throat: "How long have you been doing it?" She gave a small nod indicating to his arm.

"Since June…" Draco responded dully, Hermione was doing the math in her heat – so five months.

"And in June…" She continued, "When you first…" She made a small movement again. "Why do you do it for the first time?" She finished, rather awkwardly; Draco stayed very still for a little while, his face screwed up as though trying to remember.

"I can't really remember… I was a little bit, well… drunk." He responded timidly. "I just remember wanting that mark gone… I didn't want it on my skin, so I had kind of thought I might be able to cut it out."

"You know it will fade though… it won't stay so dark for so long now that Voldemort is gone." She said, trying to not sound too patronising or offensive, but at the same time wanting to understand.

"I know." He sighed rather resigned. "But you don't understand what it's like…" He gesticulated rather wildly, and ran his fingers through his messed up blond hair; it sounded as though he was getting frustrated and she didn't want that.

"I know I don't… so tell me what it's like so maybe I'll understand a bit more." She placated; Draco sighed a couple more times and ruffled his hair up even more, perhaps trying to think how to answer that question, or perhaps trying to avoid it.

"You know when most people make a mistake, and it gets talked about for a couple of days, then everyone forgets about it?" He asked, Hermione nodded. "But then there's some mistakes that people make that aren't forgotten so quickly?" She nodded again. "Well my mistake is branded into my arm, and whenever I see it, or _anyone _sees it, they keep on talking about it, they will never forget it." Hermione nodded once more. "I just wanted it to be gone, even though people will still talk about me, if it's gone then it's not such a burden for other people, and me to know about." Hermione listened to him closely, as he tried to unpack his analogy for his reasoning behind what he had been doing – and as his voice grew more and more dejected she realised just how much the whole _'_Death Eater' status must still be affecting him. "I just can't stand this…" He repeated, "So I tried to cut it out back in June, like – properly."

"What do you mean 'properly'?" She asked, suddenly confused about what he meant.

"Well I don't mean like that," He answered, pulling up his left sleeve, revealing the cuts again. "I thought that if I cut a chunk out, like a rectangle and cut underneath it then I might be able to take that whole section of skin with _that _bit branded into it, out of my arm…" Hermione's stomach lurched inside her as Draco spoke so calmly about removing a chunk of his own flesh. "I wasn't able to do it obviously…" He continued; perhaps allowing him to just speak without any kind of interruption was cathartic to him, and now that he was talking she didn't really want him to go silent again. "Although I think if I had really tried that night it would have been more likely that I would have actually cut off my arm…" He admitted, "So I didn't manage to do what I wanted, but…" He suddenly came to a halt, looking up at Hermione. "I'm not crazy." He stated very firmly.

"I know you're not." She replied seriously.

"I just – I know that a lot of what I'm saying makes it sound as though I'm crazy." He said, "And I don't mean the passive, sort – of – compliment crazy… I know that explaining this makes it sound like I should be locked up."

"I don't think you're crazy Draco…" Hermione responded again. "But I don't understand some of the things you're telling me – I need you to break it down even further…" Some of the awkwardness had gone between them' Draco had stopped running his hands through his hair and he sat back in his chair slightly, opening himself up a bit more. "So the first time… in June…" She continued, still not quite grasping the full concept of what she needed to, but beginning to understand some of the foundations; she was aware that he might close up on her again – and that she wanted to comprehend his situation, but didn't want to annoy him at the same time. "It was to try and remove the Dark Mark from your arm, right?"

"Yeah," He agreed, sounding rather relieved that Hermione had grasped that concept.

"I get that part…" She went slowly, trying to stay on his good side. "But when you realised that that wasn't going to work, what did you do next?"

"I realised that I wasn't going to be able to cut out a chunk that night, but by the time I realised that, I had already… I had started to try." He explained. "And…" He stopped again, once more fiddling with his fingers, there was a long silence as he seemed to consider what he was about to divulge. "It made me feel." He eventually finished his sentence.

"Made you feel what?" Hermione inquired.

"Anything." He answered simply in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" Draco sighed heavily, and almost absent mindedly he ran a finger over the cuts on his arm.

"I…" He tried, but his voice cracked and he paused; Hermione waited, wanting him to answer rather than substituting for him; but suddenly his lip was trembling and he looked upon the verge of tears again. "Since the end of the War everyone's been celebrating…" He said thickly. "And that's good! I'm glad the Dark Lord is gone, but what do I do now?" It's the same old story, but I'm a Malfoy, I'm a traitor, and I can't really be part of the celebrations cause I was on the wrong side." He sighed for what seemed the millionth time. "And it's so conflicting!" His voice raised several pitches in exasperation. "Because I'm _glad _that the Dark Lord is gone! Alright, at first I was honoured when I joined up properly, because that's what I had always been led to believe was the right thing to do… But that just shows how much of an idiot I was! And as much as it was an 'honour' when I first joined up, I never enjoyed it… Not with what they asked me to do." He went quiet for a few moments, and Hermione knew that he was thinking about Dumbledore. "I never really had a choice, especially when they all moved into the Manor…" He shuddered involuntarily, "Then it was even more like treading on eggshells, you could never tell when he was about to flip out… or what might set him off. It was horrible, it just felt _wrong."_

"But at the Manor – when Harry, Ron and I were captured by those snatchers – you helped us." Hermione commented.

"I – what?" Draco spluttered. "No I didn't… how?"

"You didn't let on that it was Harry when Bellatrix was asking." She answered truthfully, "I don't think you realise just how much of an advantage that gave us… it meant that we were held rather than Voldemort being called straight away, and in the time intervening-"

"You were tortured!" Draco interrupted her fiercely. "You can't seriously be thankful for that!"

"In the time intervening," Hermione continued. "Dobby was able to arrive to save us. If you had told Bellatrix straight away that it was Harry, she would have summoned Voldemort and Harry would probably be dead and well… the outcome might have been very different… you saved Harry's life, and probably mine too…" Draco seemed to be chewing his lip in deep thought.

"I'd never thought of it in that way…" He admitted slowly.

"Well now you might." Hermione patted Draco's knee gently. "I distracted you… sorry." She said when she realised she had taken him away from what he was trying to explain.

"No… no, it's interesting to hear what other people think." He insisted, "It's a different point of view, I had never thought about it like that."

"But you were explaining to me about why…" Hermione tentatively brought the subject back to what it had been.

"I don't think it's possible to explain without…" He started, then stopped.

"Without what?" She prompted.

"I don't know how to explain how it feels…" He replied, rubbing one of his palms across his face. "Feelings are feelings, that's why you don't put them into words." He stated rather parrot fashion.

"Try…" She pleaded.

"It's…" He tried, and then paused. "It's nothingness…" He finally spoke. "It's just like… emptiness. It's like there's this hole inside of me and everything that I should feel is just dropping out of the bottom… and it doesn't matter what I do, or what I try, it's just always there and nothing fills it…" His head had dropped again and he sounded quieter and more dejected than ever before.

"How long have you felt like that?" Hermione asked, "Since June?" Draco shook his head. "Before then?"

"Probably since about last year." He replied honestly. "And it's just kept getting worse…"

"What's made it worse? Or has it just gotten worse on its own?"

"I dunno…" He shrugged, "I thought it might get better when the War ended, you know – with the Dark Lord gone, I thought things might be better… but then everything with my parents, and I found out just how involved my father actually was… it just…" He shrugged again, "It just – I never managed to go back to how I had been before, I don't even know if that's possible…" Hermione thought about what she should say next, trying to pick what bit she should tackle first.

"Have you spoken to your parents recently?" Draco shook his head.

"Not since they were taken away in June." He answered, "Not that I really _want _to talk to them… Especially not my father, I just – I can't believe!" He broke off again. "I'd always thought my parents were mostly decent people… I've come to understand the older I got, what being in league with the Dark Lord really meant, but I never thought they were capable of the things that they've done… I mean, you think it must only be psychopaths that are capable of murder… My father used to talk big, but I didn't genuinely believe that there was action behind it…"

"But you couldn't have done anything to stop your father, you weren't responsible for his actions!" Hermione told him.

"Maybe not… But I could have got away… I _wish _I had gotten away." He was speaking quietly, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm ashamed to be a part of that family… and I never ever thought that I would be saying that… Two or three years ago I thought being a Malfoy was one of the highest positions I could have – I've come to realise recently that actually you can't get any lower."

"But your surname isn't the only thing that makes you who you are Draco." Hermione pointed out.

"But it is the first thing that people will always judge me on…and the reputation that precedes it." He answered quickly. "I'm just fed up, I don't particularly want to be like this for the rest of my life… So I've been trying to figure out how to make this awful feeling go away so I can start again with… I can just _never _be, I'm never…" He struggled, "I'm always going to be empty." He concluded in a monotone voice.

"You don't have to be empty Draco." Hermione spoke gently.

"But I don't know if it's possible _not _to be empty…" He refuted, "I've tried everything I can think of… I tried to move on, I tried to make myself forget with alcohol, I tried to let myself sleep and it didn't work! I tried to distance myself from everything that I'm used to, I came back to school because I thought might be easier to start over again at Hogwarts, but it turns out that I couldn't have been more wrong, because everyone here just sees a Death Eater – and being made Head Boy just made it all worse because they all know that there are better people than me that came back, so now everyone is just waiting till I screw up so they can point the finger at me and say '_Look! I told you so – I knew he was just a pile of shit!' _so I'm not going to be able to start over here – so the alcohol isn't going to work, and coming back to school hasn't been hugely beneficial… And then there was this." Draco pointed at the cuts on his arm. "At first I thought I could cut it out in one go – then when I realised that wasn't going to work I thought I might be able to cut it out layer by layer, and by the time that I realised that wasn't going to work either, I kind of liked the way that it made me feel when I was doing it… like the pain makes me feel alive, makes me feel anything apart from the nothingness, so in keeping doing it I've tried to obliterate over the mark and be able to feel some kind of feeling, but I'm not doing very well at _that_ either! It's all or nothing, and it gets messy, and I know it's wrong, but it works for me… so I don't think I'm ever going to not be empty, because I know I won't be able to feel anything if I stopped doing the thing that makes me feel alive…" Hermione waited for a few seconds once Draco had finished his rant, wanting to give him time to regain himself after admitting so much.

"Have you thought about talking?" She eventually said, when there had been enough time for him to recover.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked rather blankly.

"I mean talking about how you've been feeling… or not feeling. Maybe that would help you start again, if you got all the things that are really digging in your head out?" She suggested.

"I don't know…" He bit his lip, "I'd never really thought about it. I wouldn't want to burden anyone, it's my problem… I shouldn't have to force them upon anyone else."

"You know, other people don't always think that listening and helping as a burden…" She said, "Not everything has to be burdened alone Draco… what you said earlier – that feelings are feelings so they shouldn't be put into words, I think that's a bit mixed up… because feelings are feelings and have to be expressed to be completely understood… if you bottle them all up then of course they're going to become a problem." Draco seemed to mull over what Hermione was saying, but then he seemed to come up with another objection.

"I don't even know who I would talk to…" He stated rather matter of factly.

"Well," She took a breath, "There's me…" Draco just stared at her, and she felt a little bit uncomfortable as he continued to stare, apparently still processing what she had just said.

"But it's not your problem…" Draco refuted after a few seconds.

"And I'm telling you that it doesn't have to be just your problem." She insisted, "I really don't mind, I wouldn't have a problem with you talking to me about what's going on in your head – well, we've kind of already been talking about it a bit, haven't we?"

"I guess…" He agreed, "I just… I never know what to say, how to put it into words."

"Well perhaps you don't need to say anything," She said, "Just knowing there is someone there that you _can _talk to if you wanted to, might make things a bit easier for you…" She reached out and laid her hand on his knee again, wanting him to understand how sincere she was about this offer.

"Maybe… Yeah, thank you…" He was still looking down at his knees as he spoke. Hermione waited, considering everything that had happened that evening – Draco's wounds from his attack, his honesty and acceptance that perhaps what he was going through didn't need to be kept to himself. She didn't think he needed to bear all the weight of everything that he had experienced, and all of the prejudice of the other students, alone. Draco seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he nodded slightly once more and said: "I want you to know that when I say thank you, I really mean it…" He repeated, "I'm not just saying it. You're the only one who has actually been decent to me…"

"I know Draco…" Draco looked up at her, his eyes were now perfectly dry and Hermione noted the crystallized shade of silver that they were. His face was very close to hers, only a few centimetres apart, but neither of them drew back because of the distance. Hermione's heart rate had inexplicably sped up in her chest, she wasn't sure why, but she wasn't averse to it.

"Thanks…" He murmured again, much quieter this time and with a small smile. And without another word, or any instigation, their lips met.

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**A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with me for this long - I hope you're enjoying reading this story, and I'd love to know what you think/feel about this chapter and story so far! :) **


	16. Chapter 16

For the fifth time in the past ten minutes, Hermione had run her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"Alright!" Ginny dropped her pen rather forcibly onto the table top and looked directly at Hermione. "What is it?" She asked, both Neville and Luna looked up from the essay that they were supposed to be writing.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, flustered at being asked so directly.

"Well for the past half an hour all you've done is stare into space and sigh forlornly." Ginny stated in a rather matter of fact voice. "So whatever you're thinking about, why don't you offload it so you can get it out of your head, and I can get this essay completed?"

"Sorry…" Hermione apologized, she had already finished the essay that the three of them were currently working on, and she hadn't realised just how distracting her actions had been. She had been sitting with one of her other textbooks open, but she hadn't been able to focus on the writing – she had been thinking about Thursday evening and what had happened with Draco, their kiss. She had been unable to think of much else since she had left the Room of Requirement… Draco had left straight after, he hadn't even said another word – he had almost fled from the room… and Hermione didn't know where that left them now.

"Well?" Ginny recalled Hermione to the present, she was staring at Hermione expectantly. "What is it?"

"I…" She started, but then she remembered how Ginny had reacted when she was just talking to Draco; how would she react if she explained that she had kissed him? "I can't tell you…" She finished lamely.

"So it's about Malfoy." Ginny concluded, rather superciliously – however correctly.

"Why would you assume that?" Hermione asked, she didn't want to let Ginny know that she was right straight away.

"Well who else would you not want to talk about? It's obviously about Malfoy."

"It's a bit quick to make assumptions like that, isn't it?" Hermione pointed out.

"So it's not about Malfoy?" Ginny asked, Hermione bit her lip.

"I didn't say that…"

"So my assumption was right." Ginny flicked her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, yeah…" Hermione admitted.

"Okay then, well I'll go back to writing my essay and you can moan at Neville and Luna seeing as _clearly _I'll disapprove." She commented sarcastically, picking up her quill and beginning to write furiously.

"Sorry." Hermione repeated, feeling annoyed that Ginny had reacted like that when that was what Hermione had been trying to avoid. "It doesn't even matter." But Neville had leant forward in his chair so he was closer to Hermione.

"It clearly does matter to you, or you wouldn't be worrying about it…" Neville refuted, "Look I'm nearly finished this essay anyway – you could just distract me for a little while." He suggested with a small smile on his face. "I would be more than happy to be distracted, my brain's turned to mush with all this transfiguration work."

"Are you sure?" She really did want to speak about it with someone, but didn't want to take them away from what they should be doing.

"Yeah, go for it." He nodded; Luna was also nodding at Hermione but in the slightly dreamy manner that characterised her actions.

"Please don't pass this on to anyone else." She said suddenly, remembering what the Hogwarts gossip vine was like.

"Come on, who do you think we are?" Neville commented, "We're not going to tell anyone, I promise."

"Well okay…" Hermione seemed to consider for a few seconds before deciding that they were trustworthy enough for her to tell them. "You know how on Thursday evening I got back to the common room really late?"

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "And you told us about what happened to Draco."

"But I didn't tell you it all…" She said quietly. "I told you about finding him being beaten up by those boys." She paused as the memory still ignited anger in her, "And I told you about taking him to Professor McGonagall, and then taking him to get cleaned up."

"Yeah…" Neville waited for the bit that Hermione was trying to get to.

"Well he refused to go to the hospital wing to get cleaned up and so I took him to the Room of Requirement." She explained. "Because he really _was _in a state and I didn't want him to go back to his dormitory without being checked over." She bit her lip nervously, trying to think of the correct words to say to explain. "When I had fixed his nose and cleaned the blood up from his face – and tried to get him to tell me about what had happened, and why he wasn't annoyed about it…"

"And..?" Neville prompted, for Hermione had fallen into a reverie again; Hermione blinked rather startled and blurted out:

"We kissed." This time the silence was between all three of them, for a second Neville just goggled at her, and even Ginny looked up from her writing.

"You…" He began slowly.

"Kissed, yeah…" Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "And I don't know _how _it happened, it just did…" She explained lamely. Neville seemed to be wracking his brain to find the right thing to say, but before he managed Ginny had snorted and muttered audibly:

"Bit of a step down is it not?"

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, feeling her temper rise suddenly; this had been the reason she really hadn't wanted to talk about this with Ginny, because she couldn't stand all the snarky comments that Ginny made.

"Well from a proper relationship with Ron to shacking up with Malfoy…" She remarked, not even raising her gaze from her essay. "More like a jump from a cliff…"

"You know as well as I do that Ron and I weren't going to work…" Hermione replied sharply.

"So what, you just go for the next person to fling themselves at you?" Ginny sparked.

"He didn't fling himself at me!" Hermione refuted.

"That's harsh Ginny…" Neville chipped in, finally having found his voice. He turned to look at Hermione, away from Ginny. "So you kissed… What happened then?"

"Well we both just kinda left…" Hermione admitted embarrassed, "I think it took us both by surprise…"

"So you didn't say anything, or he didn't…?" He asked, Hermione shook her head. "So what is it that's making you worry about it?"

"I don't know…" She sighed, "I don't know what I do now though… I was getting somewhere, we were building something… now it's all a bit awkward."

"Well what do you want to happen?" Neville asked gently.

"What do you mean 'what does she want to happen'?" Ginny broke in once more; she had looked up from her essay again, looking utterly scandalized. "You aren't honestly condoning this… this, whatever it is she has with Malfoy?"

"I don't have a real reason to hold a grudge against Draco…" Neville replied plainly. "So I don't see why Hermione being his friend matters. It's no different from Hermione being friends with us."

"Apart from we didn't work for Lord Voldemort," Ginny snorted, "And not everyone hates us…"

"I don't hate him…" Luna chimed in, they all looked at her. "I don't know him very well, but I don't _hate _him."

"Yeah, I'm the same as Luna." Neville nodded in agreement. "I don't know Draco… but by the sounds of it, he's changed a lot since the War – but then we all have, haven't we?"

"Then you're all mad!" Ginny commented, "Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots…."

"Maybe not… but people do." Neville answered quickly. "You should know that."

"And Draco recognised that he had been in the wrong before the War was over." Hermione muttered.

"What?" Ginny asked scathingly.

"Ask your boyfriend." Hermione said louder. "If it wasn't for Draco, Harry wouldn't be alive…"

"If it wasn't for his _mother _maybe, but - " Ginny responded disbelievingly, "But not him-"

"No, I'm talking about a different occasion." Hermione insisted. "You ask Harry about Malfoy Manor, and I guarantee that he will tell you the same – that Draco saved his life." Ginny pursed her lips and pointedly looked away from Hermione. "Ginny you don't have to _like _Draco, I don't care if you hate him, but can you _please _stop bashing him in front of me?" She pleaded. "It's like if I was to sit here and bash Harry, or Ron… you wouldn't like it, and you wouldn't put up with it… all I'm asking for is the same courtesy for me and my friends." Ginny said nothing, but Hermione took that as her not arguing.

"Right…" Neville broke the silence after Hermione's statement. "Hermione, what do you want to happen?"

"I… I really don't know." Hermione bemoaned, "That's my problem…"

"Do you like him?" Neville asked, and Hermione felt suddenly as though she had been catapulted back to first and second year – it was more complex than that now, things couldn't be based on whether, or not, she had a crush on someone. But in that sudden reminder of those kind of first year feelings, she realised that she _must _have a crush on Draco, otherwise why would the thought of that be bothering her?

"I…" She started, rather disconcerted that she hadn't picked up on her real feelings sooner. "I hadn't thought about him like that before…" She replied.

""Before…?" Neville picked up on her uncertainty.

"Well… I hadn't thought about it until now." She replied, still evasively.

"So you _do _like them." It was less of a question and more a statement.

"Perhaps." She muttered.

"Well why don't you speak to him about it?" He suggested, "And see how he feels about it."

"Maybe." Hermione agreed, now considering how she would go about having that conversation with Draco.

"I'll think about it…"

But even with Neville's prompting that she should speak to Draco, Hermione didn't really consider this option as viable. After Thursday night she knew that Draco had much more pressing issues on his mind than kissing her… but she couldn't have been more wrong.

_'What do I do – oh my god, I've totally screwed everything up this time.' _Draco had rubbed his hands almost raw with the amount of times that he had gone over and over, rubbing his hands together, interlocking and unlocking his fingers – worrying. The thought kept repeatedly circling – how he had screwed everything up right at the moment that he might have gotten some clarity and resolve. _'Urgh, I'm such an idiot…' _He constantly scolded himself for that one tiny action. _'What the hell do I do now?' _Everything was so mixed up and confused… How was he supposed to talk to her now when he had done that? He hadn't even realised what he was doing until they were actually kissing… And then it had been too late, it was done. And it wasn't like he could go back and change it, it had happened, and then he'd panicked. He hadn't known what to say or do next, and the next thing he remembered was almost running from the room. It wasn't until he had been three floors down, out of breath and suddenly aware of the sharp searing pain in his ribcage, that he realised that he had just run away from sorting the whole situation out. Maybe Hermione would have just understood that he was grateful, and a little bit confused about them; she probably wouldn't have reacted that badly… She had been the only person who had spoken to him, and taken enough time to get to know him a bit. He had gotten to know her as well… But maybe that was why they had, well, kissed… He felt embarrassed; could that possibly be the only reason? Because she was the only person being nice to him? No – he refuted to himself, he surely wasn't that shallow… he hadn't known Hermione before this year, but as he had found more out about her, the more he had realised that she had always been a decent human being, and he had been in the wrong.

_'What the heck do I do now?' _Draco ran his hands through his hair, ruffling up his usually perfect hairstyle. _'How am I ever supposed to speak to her again after that kiss?' _

"You're not going to be able to avoid him forever Hermione…" Neville pointed out at breakfast on Monday morning.

"What?" Hermione asked, sounding somewhat unsure of what Neville was talking about.

"Draco… You can't hide from him forever." Neville stated obviously.

"I know…" She muttered, but that didn't stop her inadvertently making herself smaller – she was holding her head lower than usual, her shoulders hunched, maybe she didn't realise it, but it looked outwardly like she was hiding.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Neville asked.

"I don't know… Only if I get the chance to speak to him alone." She said, "I don't really want to embarrass him in front of other people…"

"That makes sense," Neville nodded. "But you will speak to him?" He prompted encouragingly.

"Yeah," She muttered non commitally.

Luckily on Mondays the only subjects that Hermione shared with Draco were transfigurations and potions, and both of them she soon realised that Draco was absent from. That however, didn't put Hermione's mind at ease, the last time he had been absent from classes he had been drinking rather a lot… it wasn't promising if it was happening again, Hermione didn't want to be the reason for him missing out and going silent all over again. And still, round and round and round the thoughts went in her head; questions about what she should do next. She had to continually ask herself how she really felt, so as to determine whether she had the sort of feelings that would warrant talking to him, about perhaps being more than just friends… That was assuming that Draco had the same kind of feelings: he might not, he maybe was just acting to a spur of the moment instinct…

What she needed, or really wanted at least, was to talk to someone outside of the situation, not Ginny or Neville or Luna… Someone who wouldn't be biased, who would give her advice on what she should really do. And it came to her, halfway through her transfiguration class – she could write to Harry.

At dinner time she sat slightly apart from Neville, Luna and Ginny – scanning the Great Hall as she did for any sight of Draco – and drafted a letter to Harry.

_'Harry,_

_ Sorry I haven't written to you in a while, being back at Hogwarts is much busier than I expected. How is everything going on the trip? Where abouts are you now? What have the two of you been up to?_

_ I'm not going to pretend, I'm writing to you for some advice. There's something I don't know what to do about, and I thought you might give me some honest advice on the matter. You might have already heard from Ginny, but I've been spending quite a bit of time with Draco Malfoy… He is Head Boy and so I've been working with him on a couple of things for school, but I've also been spending a bit of time with him outside of that… I know Ginny doesn't approve, but I mean, he really isn't any different from you or I, is he? I think he's been having a hard time from the rest of the students, but he's also kind of haunted by the War… and not in the same way that we are, it's really affecting him badly. When I look back I always know that what we were doing was the right thing and that's reassuring, but ti's obviously not the same for Draco. It's not really fair because no one really knows how he helped us when we were at Malfoy Manor. Anyway, I've been spending a bit of time just getting to know him and being friendly because no one else is going to! He's not actually a bad guy Harry – he's not the cockroach we used to think, and especially because I've been getting to know him away from everyone else, but most of that is beside the point- I wanted to ask some advice on something that happened last week. To cut a long story short, I was with Draco on Thursday night, and we accidentally kissed, well I mean more unexpectedly than accidentally = but now I'm not really sure what to do now… I can't speak for Draco, I don't know what he's thinking or how he's feeling; however it would be foolish of me to deny that I've got feelings for him. I just don't know whether to talk to him about what happened or to pretend like it __hasn't __happened at all… I know you're probably going to find this hilarious – me not sure about what to do, but just remember I gave you advice when it was you and Cho, and you and Ginny! I'm worried that if I say anything to Draco that he might stop talking to me – and more than anything that would leave __him __completely on his own without anyone to talk to, and I don't want that to happen. _

_ Be honest with me Harry, what do I do? Do I pretend as though nothing has happened – or do I actually talk to him about it?_

_ I'm sorry to bother you about all of this, I didn't know who else I could talk to that would give me an unbiased opinion. I'm sorry to just dump all of this on you._

_ I hope your trip is going well and that you're enjoying yourself… I hope to hear back from you soon. _

_ Hermione.'_

She surveyed over the roll of parchment, barely aware of the rest of the students surrounding her, or her untouched plate of macaroni cheese all she wanted to do was send this letter and get back to the common room and finish her homework so she could get this day over and done with. She left the Great Hall quickly, with the scroll of parchment clutched firmly in her hand.

Up in the owlery Hermione picked the first owl that she could reach, and tied the letter to it's leg; with it perched on her arm she carried it across to the open window and let it take off from her arm. She watched it until it was out of sight, hoping that she would soon receive a reply…

* * *

**A/N: ****Thanks for sticking with me, and I'm sorry that you've had to wait for so long! **

**Thank you for reading this far, I'd love to know what you think/feel about it so far! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Knowing the far flung locations that had been on Harry and Ron's list to visit, and having no inkling of which order they were going to visit them in, Hermione had no idea how long it would take to receive a reply from Harry.

However to her utter surprise, the barn owl she had sent off the previous evening landed on the table at breakfast the next morning. Attached to its leg was an envelope, and she recognised Harry's handwriting on the outside of it. She managed to detach the envelope from the owl's leg and slit open the envelope; inside was a folded piece of parchment and several photographs, She perused the photographs first, they all contained Ron and Harry in a variety of locations. They were waving up at her from the Sphinx in Egypt, from next to a dragon enclosure which must have been in Romania, from a high peak which looked like it was on the Great Wall of China, and then one which also had Seamus Finnigan grinning manically. For a few seconds Hermione felt a longing to see her two best friends in person, that maybe she should have gone with them, but then that thought evaporated from her mind as she unfolded the parchment.

_'Hermione, _

_ Thank you for your letter! Ron and me are in Ireland at the moment, spending some time with Seamus. It's been really interesting, everywhere we've been has really fascinating; I'm definitely learning more about international wizards! We're going to Australia next, to do some exploring before we're back at the Burrow for Christmas! Maybe we'll see you then? It would be really good to get a proper catch up!_

_ Anyway, about you little situation with Draco… I can't say I'm incredibly knowledgeable about feelings, or that sort of thing (but you know that). I agree with you when you say that Draco actually helped us in the Manor, he maybe didn't realise it himself how much this little bit of time gave us… but I think what you really want is an opinion about whether you should speak to him about how you feel about him. It seems in your last letter that you've gotten to know him better since the end of the War, and that he's no longer treating you the way he used to (or treating anyone else like that either!). I don't think it's right that the other students are not treating him properly, but you can understand that they might need some extra proof for them to believe that he has changed… _

_ Regarding you and Draco though, I can only give you the advice that I feel is right. You should follow your heart Hermione. Don't let anyone else tell you how you should be feeling or what you should be doing – you are the only person who can make these decisions, and if that means going against what the others think is right then be true to yourself and follow what __you __think is the right thing to do… if you are asking yourself whether you like Draco, and with no one elses' opinions, are answering yourself with a yes, then you should do something about it. Don't let anyone put you off (by that I mean don't let ginny tell you that what you're doing is wrong! She's my girlfriend and I love her, but she does hold some prejudice against those who impacted her family)._

_ What to do about this then, the first thing you should do is talk to Draco. Even if all you talk about is just being friends, then it will get over the awkwardness and surprise that you (and probably him) have been feeling since you kissed. It's likely that if there are feelings on his part that they would be noticeable during this conversation. (I very much doubt that if you kissed and he didn't protest that he doesn't have __some __kind of feelings for you), but having that conversation would probably let you know where you stand considering the whole situation._

_ I'm sorry if this is exactly the same as the advice that you've already been told, but all I can tell you is what I think is the right thing to do… and that's it._

_ Please look after yourself, but also don't let something pass you by and leaving you with regrets. Write back and let me know what happens,_

_ Harry.' _

Folding the bit of parchment up again, she looked back down at the photographs.

"Who is that from?" Ginny asked sounding mildly interested as she poured coffee into her mug.

"Harry." Hermione answered, then to deflect questions about the subject of the letters, she held out the photographs that she had gotten with the letter. "He sent me a couple of photos with him and Ron in the different places that they've visited…"

"Let's see…" Neville took the photos from her and flicked through them. "God that looks amazing! That's in Egypt isn't it?" He held up the photo of them waving from in front of the Sphinx.

"Yeah." She said.

"Where are they in this one?" He asked, holding up one of the other photos.

"I think they're in China there…" She replied, "It looks like a bit of the Great Wall of China."

"Wow…" Neville breathed. "That's pretty awesome! I wish I could have done something like that!"

"You still could!" Hermione told him. "You could do that next year, after you're finished at Hogwarts." She suggested.

"Nah, I think gran wants me to do some more studying and then get a job." Neville replied.

"You don't have to do everything your gran says Neville." Hermione told him firmly.

"I know," Neville nodded. "But she just wants the best for me I know that."

"Yeah, but you can decide what the best thing for you is now." She commented, "It's not like you wouldn't deserve it."

"Oh yeah, I know that. I guess I'd just rather do that sort of thing with someone…" With this comment he threw a kind of sideways look at Luna, but as she was deeply immersed in spooning jam onto her porridge, she didn't notice.

"That's not a bad idea." Hermione agreed. She wondered, after Neville had told her that she should do with Draco, whether he might take heed of his own advice and finally get round to asking Luna out… And that thought sent her back to thinking about Harry's reply – Harry said she shouldn't avoid something if it might lead to regrets… That was kind of the reason why she had been so adamant to come back to school in the first place, she hadn't wanted to regret not finishing her education and when she had made that decision, she had known that what followed was right. Even if that meant splitting up with Ron, she had known that was the right thing to do for herself… And now it seemed that the right thing to do for herself would be to speak to Draco about the whole situation. The only thing that was preventing her from seeking him out straight away and speaking to him was that she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to happen herself… Did she fully expect for her and Draco to become a couple? Was that even likely to happen with Draco being so… well, unsure of everything that was going on in his life? The last thing that she wanted to do was build him up and then later on have him come crashing down… or would they be better getting to know each other a little bit more before deciding what they should do? She had no idea… and she couldn't quite pinpoint in herself what she wanted. She honestly couldn't see how getting to know each other better might make any difference to the situation they were in now… What she needed to do was find out if Draco felt the same way that she did, then she could figure out what to do next.

Unfortunately for her, the only class that she had with Draco on Tuesdays was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and she just so happened to sit at the opposite side of the classroom to him. She didn't bank on being able to catch him while in the corridors, especially not as Draco was just as adept – if not moreso – than Harry had been at navigating through the corridors without being seen. The moment he was outside a classroom he just seemed to vanish into the milling students and it was almost impossible to spot him after that. So her best chance at contacting him was somehow managing to slip a note to him and hoping that he would meet her later in private. She had scribbled a note on a small piece of parchment, and as they were lining up for Defence Against the Dark Arts, she slipped it surreptitiously into the pocket of his robes.

Draco found that the easiest way to get food at lunchtime but still stay out of the spotlight of staring students was to pick a napkin from one of the tables and then pick whatever food they were serving that could easily be wrapped up and taken out of the Hall. This generally meant that he had sandwiches most days, but it was better than what he had been doing before – which had been to just not eat until the point that he was too shaky to stand or think properly. At least this way it meant that he was able to get some food without emptying half of the Great hall, or being watched while taking every bite (which he detested). So he would select his meal, wrap it up and the shove it in his pocket and try to find somewhere secluded that he could eat it. Depending on the weather, he would either go back down to the Slytherin dormitories and eat in there, of if the weather was half decent then he would find an isolated spot in the grounds and eat out there. Twice he had spotted the arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, sneaking out of the back of the castle to smoke a pipe that emitted a blue haze of smoke; she had never seen him though… His perpetual isolation meant that he had found all the best locations to hide in. Today was no different – he got out of Defence Against the Dark Arts as soon as the bell rang so he could be one of the first people in the Great Hall. He grabbed two sandwiches from a platter nearest the door, and managed to manoeuvre out of the hall before the crowd moving the other way became too strong. The sun was weak in the sky and there was a light breeze as he walked out into the grounds, the air around him had a crispness to it, a clear sign that autumn was fading fast. He walked towards the east wing, certain that that section of the castle would be deserted. Sitting down on a small mound that was raised above the rest of the surrounding grass and pulled the sandwiches that he had wrapped up out of his pocket; as he did so, a small slip of parchment that he had been unaware of also came out with it. Resting the sandwiches on his lap, he unfolded the slip of parchment.

_'Draco, can we talk? Meet me in the transfiguration classroom after dinner? Hermione.' _

Draco stared at the note; his heart leapt into his throat and began pounding furiously. Suddenly the memory of what had happened in the Room of Requirement reblossomed in his mind, and he instantly felt his insides turn to something resembling jelly. He didn't much fancy his sandwich anymore as he stared down at the note… Perhaps she was going to tell him that she didn't think they should be friends… was that what they were? He guessed they must be after the amount of time she had spent with him… so had that one kiss ruined everything between them? He unwrapped his sandwiches, feeling gloomy and took an unappreciative bite; he laid the rest of it back onto the napkin, not really feeling in the mood for food. He would just have to meet Hermione and face up to it... even though he suspected that by this evening, he would - once–again – be alone.

Draco hung back; he didn't want to arrive at the classroom before Hermione and be forced to hang about waiting for her. But even with that desire not to be too early, he found himself wandering the corridors during dinner – too restless to be able to stay still. His heart was pounding furiously against his, still bruised, ribs and his hands were trembling; he was stupidly nervous for no real reason. He just didn't want to face her and be snubbed. About ten minutes after dinner was supposed to end, he made his way along to the transfiguration classroom. The closer he got, the more tempted he was to turn around and go back to his dormitory, his mouth had gone completely dry and he was aware of the other students leaving the Great Hall. He hovered in the corridor outside the classroom for at least a minute, his hand reaching out to the door handle and withdrawing a couple of times before he took a deep breath, swallowed and reached for the door handle.

Hermione had been standing at the other end of the room, leaning against one of the desks and staring out into the rapidly darkening grounds. She moved slightly as she heard the door open, her head turning to see Draco enter; Draco could feel his knees trembling so fiercely that he was fairly sure that his shaking must be clearly visible.

"Draco!" She greeted him with a small smile, getting up from leaning against the table and walking towards him. He felt his heart pound in rhythm with her footsteps towards him, and he didn't even try to smile for fear of what his face might look like if he did. "I was beginning to think you might not be coming…" She said, and Draco could detect a slight waver in her voice. "Are you feeling better? Did you manage to fix your ribs?" She asked casually, Draco could feel the inside of his mouth turning to the texture of sandpaper, so instead of speaking, he simply nodded. "I wanted to see you, on your own, about last Thursday night…" She began slowly, looking down at her hands that were fiddling with the edge of her robes.

"I'm sorry." Draco blurted out before she could get any more words out; her head jerked up and she looked inquiringly at him.

"Sorry?" She repeated.

"For what happened…" He went on quickly, wanting to pre-empt the strike that might leave him alone. "I know it was inappropriate for the situation, and I don't even know why it happened." He was gabbling slightly, worried about what he was saying and about the confused expression on Hermione's face.

"Oh… I – I… okay." She seemed to struggle to find her words, and Draco felt immensely awkward – she obviously hadn't been expecting him to say anything like that. There was a silence as Hermione frowned, apparently not knowing how to proceed, and Draco felt his heartrate increase to almost bursting point. He was seized with the inclination to run from the room again – to get away from the situation, but he couldn't. He had spent the whole afternoon trying to psyche himself up for coming to see her, he wasn't going to chicken out now. All the same, this really wasn't pleasant and he didn't know whether he should say something to break the tension. Hermione was just staring at him, possibly she didn't realise how unnerving it was; Draco could feel himself blushing under her gaze. "So…" She started slowly. "So when you say you're sorry, do you really mean it?" She asked, now averting her eyes from Draco.

"I really mean I'm sorry." He responded, wondering why she was asking such a peculiar question.

"No." She shook her head as though he had not understood her question. "I mean, do you regret it?" Draco didn't know how to respond to this, he pondered it for a few seconds; he _didn't _regret it really, but how did he say that to her without making things more awkward.

"I know that it wasn't appropriate for that situation," He replied eventually, "So I'm sorry for making things awkward."

"I don't mean that really…" She said again. "I mean, do you wish it had never happened?" She asked, still not looking at him. "Because I don't." This was, beyond a doubt, the last thing that Draco had expected her to say. He stared at her dumbfounded, not quite sure what to say to her.

"I… I what?" Draco asked.

"I don't regret it at all…" Hermione repeated. "I've been thinking about it, quite a bit, and well, I don't think it was a bad thing to happen." Draco's brain seemed to have jammed – he felt like this must be a dream, he wanted to pinch himself to see if this actually happening, but he couldn't do that without Hermione noticing. "We've been getting to know each other a bit more since we came back to school, and… well, I guess what I'm saying is I like you Draco…" At this, Draco dug his nails into the palms of his hands, and as he felt the pain in them he knew that he wasn't dreaming. "Draco..?" Hermione questioned, she was looking worried; Draco felt like all the blood had run out of his head and he leant gently on the desk behind him. "I just… I don't want to make things awkward, and I didn't know, after what happened on Thursday, where that left us – so I just thought I'd make where I am clear so that it's not uncomfortable." She said this incredibly quickly, and Draco knew that she was trying to fill the silence between them.

"Well…" Draco tried to speak, but struggled to know how articulate what he wanted to say. "As long as you're not… offended or anything, then that's good." She smiled at him, seemingly reassured by what Draco was saying. "I didn't want to lose your friendship because of something I had done…" He muttered under his breath.

"I'm definitely not offended." Hermione confirmed, "It was just a moment between us – I don't think we should let it change anything. We're still friends, we can keep talking and everything, and… well… in the future, if we decide we want, well… more," She said rather ambiguously, blushing scarlet now. "Then we can figure that out then."

"I… yeah," Draco agreed, barely able to believe what was happening. "I think that's a good idea."

"So," Hermione appeared to be teetering on the edge of asking another question. "You feel the same way?" She finally asked, Draco nodded, feeling his cheeks going red again. "Great!" She smiled. Again a silence filled the space between them, and Hermione seemed to bounce slightly on the balls of her feet. "I was wondering… in the time being, whether you'd like to come to the Christmas Ball with me?" Draco hadn't been expecting this either; he had firmly imagined that Hermione would go with her group of friends – in fact he hadn't really been planning on going to the ball himself, because of that.

"Yes!" He answered rather quickly, then feeling embarrassed added: "That would be really nice."

"Wonderful!" She exclaimed and, rather unexpectedly, gave Draco a quick hug. "Thank you for coming… I wanted to sort things out with you; I didn't want you to stop talking to me again… I'd miss you."

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**A/N: Again, thanks for bearing with me... I know it's been an age - you guys don't want to hear about my hectic life, but I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to hear what you think/feel about it (and I hope to update again real soon!) **


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